Lord of the Mountains

by Sabrina Jarema

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I’m deploying men in the heights of the mountain.” He took a last bite of his sausage and swallowed it. “Bygvik lies that way, in the next valley. Toke avoids going there, so he could attack from any direction. My men can see all around the region from there. We have fast riders stationed along the paths to relay information to me. The bulk of the men are here, staying prepared. Above all, we have to guard Thorsfjell, no matter what.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll visit Ingeborg today and make certain she’s prepared to treat any wounded. My mother and I brought herbs and other remedies with us since we didn’t know what we’d find when we arrived. I’ll unpack them and take them to her. I’m certain she has many of her own, but Eirik learned things in his travels. He brought back medicines and treatments from far to the east.”

  “We learned of his knowledge when our cousin tried to poison Asa with Death’s Cap mushrooms. He knew what it was and how to treat it.”

  “Thank the gods. With Mother’s love of healing, she learned all she could from him. And then she taught me.”

  “I’d be grateful for any help you can give.” He still didn’t look at her, but his voice softened. It was a start.

  Healing wasn’t all she could do to help. She ate in silence while he sipped at a cup of buttermilk. The feeling between them was almost amicable.

  She finished her porridge and pushed the bowl away. “I’m going to the sacred grove this morning, as well.” With all the celebrations and people she’d been exposed to this past week, she needed to seek the gods and the comfort she found with them and, just as important, to be alone for a time.

  Magnus drained his cup and set it down very gently. “May I have a word with you, Silvi? In our chamber?”

  “Of course.” His soft words raised her hackles. He was being too calm, no doubt for the benefit of those around them in the common room.

  He ushered her into their room and shut the door with great care, then leaned back against it. “You are not going up there.”

  She raised her head. “You would deny me my time with the gods? I thought part of the reason you wanted me was because I can speak with them, since you can’t. How am I supposed to do that if you keep me from what I must do? We need them now more than ever.” She slashed the air with her hand. “Just because you don’t believe in them, doesn’t give you the right to deny me.”

  “I never said I don’t believe in them. That’s not the point. It’s too dangerous for you to go there. Toke’s men may be crawling all over this area.”

  “You have your own men watching and patrolling. I have to do this, Magnus. I feel that someplace between the wedding and all the celebrations, I’ve lost everything I was.”

  “Not everything.”

  She took a sharp breath, as though he’d hit her. “That’s unfair. You’re withholding yourself. You can come to me at any time. I told you I don’t wield a sword, but that can change. And trust me, with you making remarks like that, it’s sounding better and better with every moment.”

  His lips tightened as though he tried not to smile. Then he grew solemn. “All it would take is one man to get through my lines and find you up there alone. There’s no such thing as a perfect defense.”

  He was right. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “All right, then. I’ll take Nuallen with me.”

  “No.” He crossed his arms and leveled a glare at her.

  “Why not? He’s more than capable of watching over me. He cares about me and I trust him implicitly.” At Magnus’s darkening expression, she stopped. Oh gods. It couldn’t be.

  “Magnus, he’s in his forties, old enough to be my father.” She bit the inside of her cheek. It wouldn’t do to laugh right now, though it welled up inside her. Nuallen? He was a fine-looking man, but . . . Nuallen?

  Magnus said nothing. He continued to lean against the door and gaze at her.

  “He loves my mother.”

  At that, he sighed. “I know. But still. I’ll go with you.”

  “You have to meet with Eirik and Leif.”

  “And you said you wanted to see Ingeborg. Why don’t you do that, and afterward come back here? I should be done by then and we can go.”

  She didn’t want him to be there when she opened herself to the powers surrounding her. She needed stillness, both around her and in her mind. But it was the only way she was going up there, so she would just have to ignore him. “All right. I’ll be back here before midday.”

  He inclined his head to her and left, closing the door gently behind him. If only, one time, he’d slam it. Like she wanted to.

  He was being entirely too reasonable. Then again, he most likely felt he had to handle her like the finest imported glass or else she’d be gone, taking her ships and gold with her. Like all men, it was the only thing he cared about. Well, not quite the only thing. But he wasn’t making it easy for her to accept him and this marriage. He’d said she had to desire him before he’d come to her. Or was that just an excuse? She sat down.

  Every night, he combed out her hair. And every night he ran his hands along her back and arms and shoulders, relaxing her into sleep. But nothing more. Not even a kiss. If he wanted her, all he had to do was turn her over and . . .

  He appeared to have been attracted to her, but had he changed his mind? It might be that with as pale and slender as she was, he’d decided that she didn’t entice him after all. Maybe Magnus just hid it better because he wanted something only she could give him. Many a husband suffered a marriage and a wife he didn’t want to gain a hefty dowry.

  Prospective suitors had always kept away from her because of her visions and strange silver-gray eyes. They sought women who were strong and capable, who could bear them many sons. They wanted women who knew only how to handle households, children, and farming.

  She understood those things, as well. But no one had ever looked beyond what they saw, to what she could do. She’d thought that a man’s rejection would never bother her. After all, she’d planned to go to Uppsala and become a priestess. Yet, as she looked back, each time a man had made an excuse and his gaze had slid away from hers, it had dealt her a tiny sting. Rather than admit it, even to herself, she’d always raised her chin and steeled herself against feeling anything. She’d told herself it just didn’t matter.

  What if it finally did matter? Magnus was her husband. If he turned away from her in the night, it would be the ultimate rejection. When she’d known her marriage was inevitable, she’d assumed he would take her, albeit more gently than she’d witnessed during the winter. Then it would be done.

  He’d said he wouldn’t. Not until she desired him. She put her head in her hands. What did that mean? She knew about what happened between men and women, but she didn’t know. What did desire even feel like? Was it the melting sensation inside her when Magnus smoothed his hands over her shoulders and back during the night? What would happen if, just once, she turned over and faced him? Would he do the same thing to her breasts? He was waiting for some sign from her, but what did she know of such things? And each day, they grew more distant.

  Even though she was married, she might end up being alone with the gods in the end.

  The island, her haven, was gone. It had vanished from under her and plunged her into the turbulent sea. She was still sinking. She needed to reach up to find the gods and reconnect with them, pull herself back into the light. Feel their breath on the wind, hear their words in the trees, find their wisdom, which the land itself would sing to her. Maybe then, she would understand.

  No one would keep her from the gods. Not Toke, not his threats, and not even Magnus. Once, they were all she wanted. Now, they might be all she had left.

  * * *

  “I brought this for Silvi, but it’s also quite useful for wounds.” Lifa’s voice carried to the street as Silvi walked up to Ingeborg’s small house. “It comes from the sap of trees that grow in a land where it’s always warm. It’s as expensive as gold, though, so it
should be reserved for those wounds that will not heal any other way.”

  Silvi leaned in the open doorway. She didn’t want to disturb her mother and the healer if they were involved in discussing the cures Lifa had brought with them. Ingeborg saw her and motioned her in. A chunk of brownish-yellow resin sat on the main table.

  “The myrrh.” Silvi picked it up.

  “What ails you, mistress?” Ingeborg studied her. “And what do you use this for besides wounds?”

  “I have burning pains in my stomach.” She placed it back on the table. “It’s mostly when I become upset, though it can happen at other times as well. Eirik said he bought this from healers who were from a place called Arabia. There, the healers are called saydalani and they must be permitted by their rulers to practice their art. They believe illness is not caused by the gods, but by imbalances in the body itself. These imbalances can be treated with medicines.”

  “For Silvi, I make an infusion of this with water, then mix it with honey, for it is bitter,” Lifa said. “I sometimes add ginger as well. It’s helping her.”

  “I see.” Ingeborg nodded. “How it is used for wounds?”

  “You may make a lotion of it with wine and place it on the injury.”

  Ingeborg chuckled. “With the jarl’s expensive wine, and this being as costly as gold, it would have to be an important wound. Or person.”

  Lifa smiled. “Perhaps it would be better, then, for his peace of mind, to mix it with honey, flour, beef fat, and butter, then apply it.”

  “Thank you, Mother, for bringing it.” And if things kept on the way they had been with Magnus, she would likely need it. Soon.

  “Eirik bought the myrrh with you in mind when he heard about its effects on the stomach. It’s only right that it come here with you. If this does work, we can ask Rorik to look for it in his travels. In spite of his raiding, there are quite a few traders with whom he does business. After all, he has to sell his spoils somehow. With as many languages as he speaks, he should be able to find some when he heads east to Staraya Ladoga.”

  Perhaps even Magnus could search for it in his travels. With the longships, he would be able to venture farther than he ever could before. If it worked on wounds as well as Eirik was told, it could be very profitable to sell it here.

  Silvi winced. Already she was thinking like a merchant. She needed the time with the gods to bring herself back to what mattered. And yet, more profits meant a better life for the people of Thorsfjell, and what could matter more than that?

  She sat at the table and listened while her mother and Ingeborg discussed various treatments and compared the herbs they had with them. Lifa would be gone in a short time and Silvi needed to learn all she could. She’d always stood in her mother’s shadow, but soon the light would shine on her alone, and she needed to be ready. At least Ingeborg was here, but the elderly woman was frail. Who knew how many more winters she could withstand? Then everything would fall to her.

  She stared out the open door. She wasn’t ready for this. For healing, for guiding a people, for running a village, for marriage. Her parents had taught her everything she should know about such things, but she never thought she’d need them. At times, she’d listened with only half her attention. Details had faded into the back of her mind long ago. That was for other women. Not for her.

  Now, she would have to remember everything she’d been taught. The only thing she was confident about was her role in the spiritual guidance of Thorsfjell.

  She sat up. Oh gods, Magnus. He was supposed to take her to the sacred grove. Had he been waiting on her all this time? It was his own fault, though, for wanting to come with her. It served him right. And yet, it was for her safety that he had insisted on taking her himself. Perhaps he did care a bit after all.

  “I have to meet with Magnus.” She rose as Ingeborg and her mother gave each other a knowing look. Frowning, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Never mind where your thoughts have obviously gone. I have to go to the grove, but he won’t let me go alone.”

  “Not with the way things are right now.” Ingeborg mixed a bowl of ground herbs. “He’s right to guard you so. And perhaps you need to be there more for him than he needs to be there for you.”

  She didn’t respond. Magnus said he hadn’t spoken of his lack of feeling for the gods to anyone, not even Leif. It wasn’t her place to enlighten anyone else to that. Instead she picked up the chunk of myrrh.

  “I’ll take this. In case I need it. Then I won’t have to disturb either of you. I can powder and mix it myself.” And she wouldn’t let them know just how often her stomach burned her. Her mother knew it happened when she was upset or anxious. With Magnus and her being at odds about so many things, she might have more need of it than she wanted them to know. Besides, she could show it to him so he would recognize it while on his journeys.

  When she entered the longhouse, the door to his meeting room was open, so she looked in. He sat at his table, speaking with Leif. When they saw her, they stopped talking and she stepped in. She set the resin on the table.

  “Did you bring that to hit Magnus on the head with?” Leif leaned forward. “It won’t work. His head is too hard.”

  Magnus sniffed it, ignoring him. “It smells interesting.”

  “It’s called myrrh. Eirik can tell you more about it than I can, since he brought it back for us. I do know it’s used in the eastern lands for healing wounds.” She smiled at the sharp look of interest he gave her. “It’s worth its weight in gold, but if you find it in the markets, it could be very lucrative in your trading. It also helps stomach pains. Its true value is in healing injuries. They don’t fester as often.”

  “These aren’t things I have any knowledge of. Nor does Ingeborg. We know mostly the herbs and plants we have here. What else did he bring back?”

  “I can show you the herbs and spices that my mother brought with her. Then when you see them, you’ll know to buy them.”

  “To us, they all look like dead plants.” Leif took the myrrh from Magnus and studied it. “He might have to bring you with us to help with that.”

  To be back on the seas, sailing in a magnificent longship, the spray on her face, the sounds of the waves on the hull at night. With Magnus so close to her the entire time.

  “This is mine.” She plucked the myrrh from Leif’s hand. “Unless we need it for wounds. Magnus, are you ready to go to the grove?”

  “Yes.” He rose. “What use is it to you? There aren’t any wounds on your body.”

  Leif snorted, then ducked as Magnus tossed a wooden cup at him. She had to stop herself from smiling. They were acting like two little boys, and she’d never seen Magnus this way. He grinned as Leif headed out of the room, winking at her. Heat rose in her cheeks.

  “Excuse my brother. He knows no subtlety.” He looked at the myrrh, then her. “You have stomach pains?”

  She edged her gaze away from his. “Anyone can have an upset stomach, Magnus.”

  “Yes.” He came around the desk to stand before her. “And we have plenty of remedies for that. But you said pains. Eirik would have spent a great deal of gold on this. That’s something he would do for someone very important to him who was hurting.”

  He didn’t miss much. But then, trading in all the markets, he had to be skilled at such observations. She should have been more careful about what she said.

  “I have some pains in my stomach from time to time. It’s nothing. But Eirik worries too much and so he spent much more than he should have. Still, since he did pay for it, I’ll use it. It might help.” It already had, but she didn’t want him to think much of it. Especially if he knew what caused those pains.

  After she put the myrrh in their chamber, she joined him in the common room. He swirled her cloak around her shoulders.

  “It’s not cold here, but on the cliff, the winds blow more freely. I don’t want you to take a chill.”

  She nodded her thanks. They walked through the village, pausing as people stopped Ma
gnus to speak with him about different matters. He knew each of them, their concerns, their situations, and their families’ problems. Of course, he had been born here, and had lived here all his life, being groomed for this responsibility; but it went deeper than that.

  He cared. From the warrior who needed a new battle-axe to the young woman who wanted more wool to spin, he listened to each of them with great attention.

  When they left the village road to start up the path to the grove, she smiled. “They depend on you for many things.”

  “It’s the way of a jarl. We must be provider, judge, protector, and mediator. We represent our people to other men as well as to the gods. The welfare of all, from the highest-ranking warrior to the lowest thrall, is my responsibility. It’s why Leif hopes I live to be a hundred years old. He doesn’t want the title.”

  “Neither does Rorik, though he’s more like a king as far as his power and wealth go. All he wants is to go on raids and enjoy the spoils that come of them.”

  “Sometimes I feel that men like Leif and Rorik are wiser than I am, but it was what I was born to.” He took her arm to steady her as they rounded a sharp turn in the path. “I still feel like I fail them all in the most important way. I’m supposed to intercede with the gods for them. To conduct the rituals on the right days, and make the sacrifices that will please Asgard. I go through the motions, but that’s all. The gods must know it.”

  “Perhaps that’s why I’m here.” They reached the top of the path and she stepped out of the trees. Did the gods feel she was needed here more than at the temple? There, she would be one of many. Here, she would be one for many.

  He stopped, as though uncertain. She continued on until she stood in the center of the open space, facing the gap in the trees where she could see the distant mountains and ice. A cool wind picked up. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep of the sharp scent and cleared her mind.