Nuallen and Asa looked at each other. “Very well,” she said. “But we’re bringing extra men with us. Get your supplies while I find them.”
At least she wouldn’t go too mad now. She went inside. Her mother had gathered all her runes and was placing them in their bag.
Silvi stopped by the table. “What have they told you?”
“Victory.” Her expression was troubled. “But other forces move here. There are warnings of secrets and betrayals. Their message isn’t clear, so I’ll have to do more castings when all is calmer again. It might be that the fighting and death on the mountain are influencing the runes. Blood always draws the shadows.”
A chill ran up Silvi’s spine. Her mother spoke of shadows, and Silvi had seen them flowing across Thorsfjell. She hadn’t told her mother of her visions, yet the runes had spoken of the same thing.
“I’m going with Asa and Nuallen to the fjord to see what’s happening with Leif. I’m bringing my healing supplies.”
Lifa stood. “That would be good. Ingeborg and I are ready also. When Magnus comes back, I’ll tell him where you are.”
When Magnus came back. “Have you seen that in the runes?”
“Only that there is victory.”
Then Magnus and Eirik would return, for there could be no true victory without them. However, what the gods considered a victory and what they actually won, could be two different things.
Chapter Eleven
The ships were untouched.
The men who lay dead on the beach weren’t so lucky. A small boat rested on the sand, no doubt the one they’d come on. Silvi had been right.
Leif met Asa, Nuallen, their men, and her as they all dismounted from their horses. “The marauders tried to come under the cover of darkness in this faering, but we heard the water against the hull. Fools should have beached farther up the fjord and come in on foot. Even then, we would have found them. They had torches ready to light to set the ships on fire.”
Kaia, standing a small distance off, crossed her arms. “We should have sent their bodies back in the boat to Toke with their bollocks cut off to give him a message.”
Leif paled, clearing his throat. “I think he’ll get the message from Magnus up on the mountain. Besides, I want to keep the boat. They’re too precious to waste. It’s small, but it’s worth having. The fewer Toke has, the better.”
“That’s true.”
“See? We can agree on something.”
She turned away without acknowledging his comment.
Silvi shook her head. Leif still had no idea what he was getting into with the shieldmaiden. What would it take to show him? The flat of a blade to the side of his head? She wouldn’t put it past Kaia to try. Silvi should warn Leif about her cousin, but it likely wouldn’t do much good. After all, Magnus had known about Silvi’s visions, yet he’d still wanted to marry her.
For the ships. Rorik offered a handsome dowry for Kaia, but not one of his ships. She looked at the magnificent vessels.
“Why would Toke want to destroy Rorik’s ships? Even he can’t be so insane as to provoke Rorik. No one does that and lives.”
“He probably thinks they’re part of your dowry,” Leif said. “He wouldn’t know Rorik owns these. He hoped to destroy something Magnus owns, to stop him from challenging him on the fjord.”
At the sound of hoofbeats, the warriors reached for their weapons, but they relaxed when they saw it was Magnus and Eirik. Asa ran to meet them. She jumped up onto Eirik’s horse and landed in front of him, grabbing him and kissing him hard. He laughed and let her down before dismounting.
“Now that’s a greeting that makes any battle worthwhile.” Eirik put his arm around Asa and kissed the top of her head as she smiled into his chest.
Magnus leveled his gaze on Silvi as he swung down from his horse. She could breathe now. He was safe. He had a bloody cloth wrapped around his forearm, but such a wound would not be life threatening. He was dirty and spattered with blood, his arms corded with exertion, his hair sweaty and tangled. He was beautiful.
The look he gave her, though, was like a storm over the mountain. Instead of embracing her, he took her arm.
“I need to speak with you.” He led her away from the group.
She snatched her arm from his grasp when they were out of the others’ hearing. “Stop pulling at me. I can choose where I want to go.”
He rounded on her. “That’s obvious. Why are you here? You should be up at the longhouse, safe. I arrived there from battle, expecting a greeting like Asa just gave to Eirik, but you weren’t there. Instead, you’re wandering the countryside when the enemy might still be about.”
“I had Nuallen and Asa and her warriors with me. They wanted to check on Leif and I asked to come. I was going insane staying inside, awaiting word. I thought if anyone here was hurt, I could treat the injuries. They’re fine.” The remark about Asa stung. Her beautiful sister-in-law was strong and brave. A shieldmaiden. It was easy for her to jump on a horse like that. And she was confident in Eirik’s love for her. None of those things applied to Magnus and her.
“I have eight wounded. I need you in the village to help your mother and Ingeborg when they arrive. Instead you’re here.”
“What if Leif was hurt? You’d want someone to treat him as soon as possible, wouldn’t you? I have visions, Magnus, but I don’t know everything. Perhaps you need someone like your sister. Someone strong and perfect, who knows where she stands in her husband’s eyes. Unlike me.”
She strode away from him, back to her horse. He caught up to her.
“Where are you going?”
“To the village, where you want me, my jarl. Maybe someone there will appreciate my efforts.” Seeing how loving Asa and her brother were knifed into her. She would never have that with Magnus. He looked at her and saw ships, not a wife.
“You’re not going up there alone. I’m coming with you.”
“Then I’ll still be alone.” She mounted and nudged the white mare into a walk. But she kept the horse to a slow pace so Magnus could catch up to her on his gelding. She was angry, not foolish. She needed someone to come with her in the event Toke had other men on the mountain. Because she wasn’t a shieldmaiden.
By the time she started up the path, there were several horses behind her. She glanced back. Magnus rode in front, while Eirik, Asa, Leif, and Kaia rode in a line after him. More warriors flanked them. No doubt they all knew of the argument, for they hung back, well away from the anger radiating off of Magnus. Her mother’s habit of using runes for nefarious purposes was starting to look better and better.
Her stomach twinged. Oh gods, not now. She was upset, and the pain often started then. She’d get the myrrh. And honey. And ginger. Might as well gather it all. She was going to need it.
* * *
“Sit down.” Silvi pointed to a bench in the longhouse and glared at Magnus. The wounded were there. Ingeborg and Lifa still worked on the one serious belly injury as servants got them more boiled water. Eirik had taught Lifa of its use for cleansing wounds; Ingeborg, however, insisted on the wine. And leeks for the belly wound. Other women smeared honey and herbs on the cleaned cuts before wrapping them in linen they’d boiled.
“I’m fine.” Magnus scowled at her. “Go help your mother and Ingeborg.”
“I’ll only be in the way. They have what they need. Everyone else is taken care of. Now I need to examine your arm. Sit.”
“Yes, mistress.” He sank down with a sigh.
“As you’ve told me on the rare occasions when I’ve done as you asked, that’s better.” She unwrapped the cloth, recognizing the way it was arranged. “Eirik did this.”
He nodded. “On the battlefield. It was minor, but could have interfered with my sword hand. He stopped the bleeding. I really don’t need this. You have other work to do.”
“Stop being a child. You were like this after the battle for Haardvik. Just be still.” It wasn’t too deep and shouldn’t need stitching. The gods he
lp her if it had. He’d have been even worse, no doubt. She cleaned the wound again with cooled boiled water, then picked up a bottle of wine. He narrowed his eyes. She poured a good portion of it into a bowl, smiling at him.
“Surely this little cut doesn’t need all that.” His jaw was tight.
Still smiling, she dumped most of it on his arm. He jumped up, cursing and shaking his arm.
“The cut may not need it all, but I do.” She drank the rest of the wine straight out of the bowl.
“You can pour some for me.” He sat down, eyeing her. “I need it more.”
“No, you don’t. I’m having to put up with you. Now, let me get the rest of this done.” She dabbed up the excess wine, then smeared the honey mixture over the cut. When it was wrapped, she stepped back. “There. I’ll need to check it again tomorrow, but I’ve done all I can for now.”
“I’ll survive.” He glanced at the empty bowl. “Perhaps.”
“Just be glad it isn’t a belly wound. Ingeborg is armed with her leeks.” She glanced at his lower abdomen. The injury he’d survived long ago would have killed another man.
He got off the bench. “I need to see to my man, Egill, who was so badly hurt.”
She followed him to where Ingeborg and Lifa were working on him. He was laid out on one of the tables, his tunic torn open. A horrible gash crossed his abdomen just under his ribs. Blood pooled under him. He was, thankfully, unconscious.
“Do you know if his stomach was cut open?” Magnus peered over Lifa’s shoulder.
“I don’t see any sign of it. Before he passed out, he ate a leek,” she said. “So far, we don’t smell anything. This will have to be stitched shut and then cauterized. He’s lost a lot of blood. Perhaps too much.”
“We’ll do it now. Even if he’s cut inside, the blood loss will kill him if we don’t.” Ingeborg took a needle and sinew out of a bowl of steaming water. “I’ve boiled this as Eirik said to do, though I don’t see that it would make any difference.”
“Shall I powder the myrrh?” Silvi would need it soon anyhow, for herself. Her stomach burned.
“Not for him.” Ingeborg pulled the skin together. “Unless it looks like he’s going to live. Then it would be worth the expense to use it on him.”
Silvi winced. Ingeborg was right, of course, but it still sounded hard-hearted. However, one had to be practical about these things. She looked around the room where the wounded men lay on tables and the floor. They would live or die according to their fates, which the Norns wove before their births. All the healers could do was try to keep the injuries from festering. And wait. Perhaps the new techniques Eirik had brought back with him from the desert lands would work. They’d find out soon enough.
Silvi went to their chamber and shut the door. Between the battle, the waiting, the wounded, and her anger at Magnus, her stomach was on fire. She’d hidden it well enough while among the others, but in the privacy of the bedchamber, she grimaced.
The resin lay in one of her personal chests, wrapped in linen. It was sticky, but she scraped off a flake with her knife, and put the rest away. She needed hot water. There was plenty of that in the common room.
She rose to go to the door. Magnus stood there, leaning back against it, his arms crossed. He’d been so quiet, she hadn’t heard him.
“Taking lessons from Nuallen in stealth?”
“I don’t require lessons from him to see what my wife is doing.” He looked at the piece of myrrh she held. “I thought they didn’t need that yet.”
She didn’t want him to know she was in pain. He likely thought she was weak enough already. “Shouldn’t you go wash in the sauna? You smell of battle.”
“That’s because I’ve just been in one. Actually, I came in here to get fresh clothing for after I wash. But I see you here, using the myrrh. Why?”
“It’s always best to be prepared in case we need it. Because it’s so sticky, it takes some time to steep. I can powder it early. We can always use it another time if we don’t need it now.”
“I see.” He pushed away from the door and crossed to one of his chests. He rummaged through it and pulled out a clean shirt and pants. As he left, he glanced at the resin in her hands but didn’t say anything else.
She sighed in relief. Strength and health were everything to their people. Even the women strove for the masculine ideal of fortitude, resilience, and endurance. Physical prowess defined them. They were taller and stronger than any of the other peoples they’d come across. They had to be, to survive in their brutal world.
That was why she’d always wanted to retreat from it. She wasn’t strong, or vigorous. Her stomach was weak. At times, it seemed as though all the pains of the world burned inside her. Perhaps if Magnus had known about her imperfections, he wouldn’t have married her. If only she’d thought of it then, but it was too late. In more ways than one.
She loved him and wanted him to regard her like Eirik did Asa—as a woman who could stand beside him with strength and bravery. An equal. She looked down at the resin in her hands. If she could hide the extent of her pain from him, perhaps one day, he would.
The common room was quiet, except for the moans of the man whose stomach Ingeborg was still stitching. Silvi poured hot water into a cup and grated the myrrh into it. After adding the honey and ginger root, she set it aside to steep. Lifa watched her, offering her a gentle smile.
Silvi walked over to her. “Do you think they’ll all survive?”
“They should, but we’ll have to see about Egill.”
“If you need the myrrh, tell me. It might be a good opportunity to try it.”
“I didn’t think you were preparing it for him.” She lowered her voice. “The pains are back?”
“Yes, but I’d rather no one know besides Ingeborg. I mentioned something to Magnus, but not about their intensity. The last thing anyone needs to learn is how weak I am.”
“The last thing you are is weak, Silvi.”
“Spoken like a loving mother. You don’t see my flaws.”
“The gods don’t choose those who cannot stand up to their demands. That takes strength. Not the same kind that’s needed to wield a sword or row a ship for days. I cannot do any of those things. Would you call me weak? If all of us were warriors, we wouldn’t survive as a people.”
“But you’re not . . . flawed. Like I am. I don’t want anyone to know the wife of their jarl has something wrong with her.”
“Or, you don’t want the jarl to know.”
“He probably thinks I’m weak enough. Insipid. Like a turnip that has been boiled too long.”
Lifa gave a short, horrified laugh. “Oh gods, Silvi, where is this coming from? You’ve never spoken like this before.”
“I never needed to. It didn’t matter. Before. Now it does. I fear I’ll disgrace our family, and Magnus, if everyone knew. Promise me you’ll say nothing to him.”
Lifa brushed back a lock of Silvi’s hair that had fallen loose. “My love, you’re wrong in so many ways, I can’t begin to reply to them. But I won’t say anything. You made your own life when you married. I won’t interfere in that. You’ll tell him when the time is right. Just as you’ll tell him you love him.”
Was it that obvious? Then again, her mother could see things no one else could. She couldn’t deny it, not to her mother. “All he sees when he looks at me are warships.” She gave her a sideways glance. “And a boiled turnip.”
Lifa’s shoulders shook as she laughed gently. “Then I’ll wager he’s developed a particular fondness for turnips. You need only look at him to see it in his eyes.”
So often, the only expression she saw in his eyes was anger. She smiled to hide the pain, both in her body and her heart. “I know of no man who looks at a turnip with particular joy, unless he’s starving.” Of course, if he continued to hold himself away from her, he might be starving in a completely different way. Then, maybe she would look good to him. “I need to take this mixture and lie down. It’s been a long night.�
�
“Go and sleep. I may do the same. We have several women watching here, and they’ll let us know if we’re needed.” Lifa kissed her forehead. “No matter how far apart we are, remember my love will always be with you.”
“I know. Sometimes, that’s the only thing keeping me standing.”
She took the cup with the myrrh mixture and brought it to the sleeping chamber, then drank it. The myrrh hadn’t quite dissolved. A small lump lay in the bottom of the cup, but she’d swallowed enough of it. The honey and ginger should also help.
She took off her shoes and lay on the bed. Exhaustion weighed her down. She wasn’t the only one. Her mother looked tired as well. They all were. No one should hold it against her if she rested for a short while. Then she should be about her day. The people of Thorsfjell needed her.
But the bed was too soft, the furs too comforting. Magnus, Eirik, Leif, and Asa had survived. They had defeated Toke’s outcasts. Again. Thorsfjell was safe.
The pains in her stomach lessened and she breathed deep, snuggling into the warm nest of covers. She drifted, like a ship on a calm sea, and let herself go.
The endless ocean surrounded her. The island was gone. She was alone with only waves around her, the open sky above her. Yet, if she reached down with her toes, she could touch sand beneath her. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it. Was the island below her? If she stayed in contact with it, she’d be able to keep her head above the water.
Why wouldn’t it rise? Why was it beneath the waters where she couldn’t see it? How long could she go on like this before she grew too weak to stay afloat, and slipped away forever?
Magnus closed his chamber door behind him softly, trying not to awaken Silvi. She hadn’t been in the common room when he’d come back from the sauna. But neither had Lifa or Ingeborg. Only a few of the village women were there, seeing to the needs of the wounded men. They’d said everyone was resting for a while. And he had hoped . . .
She was here, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her. He went to the side of the bed and looked down at her. So beautiful. Her cool beauty, illuminated by the daylight coming in through the windows, took his breath away. She was like snow spread out under the sun.
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