The Quest for Gillian’s Heart

by The Quest for Gillian’s Heart (lit)

  "Thora, is this agreeable to you?" Egil asked.

  She pushed her way into the circle, past a silently raging Leif and onto Andor, her love for him clearly splashed in the pink of her cheeks. Gillian could take no more. She pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob then ducked away to her tent.

  "Yes, it is," Thora replied.

  "Then I grant a divorce this day. Leif, a guard will see you safely to your house where you may gather your personal belongings. After that, a safe house will be assigned if you wish until you find a ship."

  "I do not wish," he said.

  "Very well. This hearing is finished."

  With Thora padding faithfully beside him, Andor joined Freyda and Rollo on the sidelines.

  "Where is Gillian?" he asked.

  Freyda shot him a scowl and stomped away.

  "What is bothering her?" he asked Rollo.

  Rollo pulled him out of Thora’s hearing range. "What do you plan to do with two wives?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Rollo pointed at Thora.

  Andor’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. "I do not intend to have two wives. One is all I require."

  "And which one will that be?"

  "What a foolish question."

  "I am sure Gillian does not think so."

  "Gillian knows what is in my heart," Andor said.

  "Have you told her that?"

  "No, I do not have to. She knows," Andor snapped, and marched away.

  "Do not be too sure of that, my friend," Rollo called to his back.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  Was this how she was destined to spend every day of her life - crying herself to exhaustion? She had left her homeland, thrust aside her fear, for the welfare of her baby. Her baby had died anyway. If she had stayed home, Gwynneth would be alive today. Today she would have been close to starvation, but alive.

  And her heart that she had so carefully guarded at the beginning? It now lay in shards at her feet. She had allowed herself to trust, and this is what it had gotten her - cast aside.

  Gillian should have known it would come to this. What man would be content with the kind of marriage she intended? A man had a right to heirs. It was a wife’s responsibility to bear those heirs, and Gillian had made it quite clear she wanted no part of that.

  She thought of the speech he had given the crowd - it wasn’t hard, the words would haunt her forever. He had married her to protect her from Leif. He had accepted responsibility for her child, again because of Leif. There was no mention of love...only his duty to her as a widowed expectant mother.

  He had made it clear from the beginning that he was a leader, a responsible man. Andor placed his moral obligations above all else. He had a duty to care for all those in his charge, a duty to ensure their continued welfare by having heirs. And she had forgotten that. She had fallen in love with him.

  Now, in one swift proclamation, Andor had permanently seen that Leif would never be a threat to her again and had set free the woman he had longed to marry. All that stood in his way for total happiness was his union with Gillian. With Leif gone, marriage for her safety was no longer an issue. As Thora had been divorced from Leif, so too could Gillian expect to be released from her vows to Andor. He had offered her such before. She would have her land, her monies, her possessions, and slaves to work her land. She would never want for anything...except Andor’s love.

  A new spasm of sobs shook through her. It was like mourning a death, yet how could she mourn the loss of something she never had? Love had never been mentioned between them. From the outset it had been a marriage of convenience. Just because Andor exercised his marital rights by bedding her, should have given her no reason to believe that relationship had changed. It was her heart which had strayed into love, a love she saw no need to announce, for she thought Andor felt it, too.

  Perhaps it was Gwynneth who made the difference. He obviously loved the child. The way he doted on her proved that. Was it possible that Gillian had thought herself to be included in that father-daughter bond? Was that love so strong that Gillian had been caught up in the overflow?

  At the time it didn’t seem so, yet now when her successor waited on the outskirts of their lives, she saw that had to be the case. It was the baby who had made the difference.

  She sat up to brush clean her tear-stained cheeks. Although she was somewhat more composed, tears still fell. If having a child was what made the love present in their marriage, it seemed logical that having another child would bring the love back. With a baby for him to dote on, how could Andor not learn to love her? It would be such a simple way to keep him with her always. As mother to his children, he surely would not cast her aside.

  She let her thoughts drift around that idea. It seemed an almost deceitful way of obtaining his love. Yet, in her own village she had seen and heard of women who had done far worse to get the men they loved. All Gillian was contemplating was giving a child to her husband. Perhaps the boy they had discussed once before, born in the image of his father. Or maybe a daughter like Gwynneth.

  Gillian felt as if a knife had been thrust in her heart. No, not like Gwynneth. She remembered the first butterfly movement as Gwynneth rested inside her. Recalled the pure joy of seeing her birth. Her nipples tightened as the not-so-old memory of a baby’s suckling mouth hit her. She wrapped her arms around her body and fell onto her bedding. It hurt too much. She loved Andor more than she ever believed possible to love a man. The very thought of life without him hurt beyond words, but so did doing the one thing which would keep him.

  She brought her knees to her chest and lay curled in a fetal position. Soon she’d know the stigma of being a divorced woman. In her village such things were not done. On those rare occasions when a divorced woman was encountered, she was treated no better than a leper in public. In private men sought her company as they would a harlot.

  Even if she had the chance, Gillian could never return home under those circumstances. Bartered to the first husband, divorced from the second, they’d snicker behind her back. She was doomed to spend the rest of her life alone, pining for a man whose love she would never possess. Better to have starved in Ireland, than to face the coming years in misery. At least there she was ignorant of what love was.

  Outside Andor and Gillian’s tent Freyda had listened to as much crying as she intended. She had sought to give Gillian time she needed to be alone, but this latest batch of muffled cries was too much to bear. With a muttered curse about her brother, she lifted the flap and poked her head inside.

  "Gillian?"

  "Please go...I am not well and need a moment to rest."

  "Curse his hide," she spit out.

  "No, Freyda, please. He is your kin."

  "And so are you." She ducked back out and slapped the flap in place. Andor was coming toward her, face gray with a scowl, Thora tagging behind.

  Freyda picked up her skirts and stomped his way. "I would like a word with you, brother."

  Andor jerked to a stop. His face was frozen between surprise and amusement. He almost laughed, then he realized how angry his sister was.

  "Seamus, take Thora to her campsite. Retrieve her things and tell the people who follow her I wish a word with them."

  The young man nodded and dipped his head Thora’s way. "If you’ll be showin’ me the way, missus."

  Andor waited until they were well out of earshot before dealing with Freyda.

  "I take it you are angry about Thora?"

  "Where is your head?" she asked through clenched teeth.

  He braced his hands on his hips. "I thought you and Thora were friends. I thought you liked her."

  "That matters naught. Gillian is my sister. I love her. This is wrong."

  "Wrong to take in a woman whose husband daily beat her? Wrong to help her be free of him when the chance presented itself?"

  Freyda shoved her face up to his. "Wrong to hurt Gillian this way. She knows how you once felt about Thora. She knows you
once thought to marry her."

  Andor held up his finger. "Once...What Gillian knows is that I care for her greatly. She knows I love her and only her. Thora means nothing to me."

  "Really now?" She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "Then why does she sob her heart out in your tent even as we speak?"

  "I do not know, but I shall find out."

  He moved Freyda to one side and walked on to his tent. He could hear Gillian’s soft cries from outside, but it did nothing to prepare him for the pathetic sight of her curled on top of their furs.

  "Gillian, Gillian, why the tears?" He knelt to enfold her in his arms.

  She leaned into him, welcoming what would probably be their last moment of closeness.

  "Is it the babe?" he asked.

  She nodded against his chest. How could she tell him otherwise?

  "I miss her, too." He rubbed soothing circles on her back. "But today we have the justice we have sought. Leif will suffer just as we intended he would. He can go nowhere without the tale following him...unless he would go very far away."

  "I know," she sniffled, "and I am grateful."

  "And...you do understand about Thora, do you not?" he asked hesitantly.

  Gillian was glad he could not see her face, for she knew it must be contorted with the pain she tried to hide.

  "Aye...I understand."

  Andor smiled and hugged her. "I knew you would. I told Rollo and Freyda so. I know you well, I said. And you me. There could be no mistaking my intent now could there?"

  "None," she somehow managed to say.

  She took a deep breath and stiffened her resolve to be strong about this. Then she lifted her head to look at him. He was smiling, even his eyes were happy. If she truly loved him, how could she destroy that by keeping him in a marriage he did not want?

  "I am sorry for carrying on so."

  He cupped his palm to her cheek. "‘Tis an easy thing to understand. You have every right to be upset. When all of this is not so new and the pain has lessened, we will speak of this again."

  She was getting a reprieve while she mourned Gwynneth. Bless him for that.

  He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "Rest if you feel the need. I must speak with the men who worked Leif’s land."

  Gillian wiped her cheeks clear and vowed no more tears would be shed over this matter. "They should stay for dinner. ‘Tis only hospitable. I will help Freyda. She has carried the burden for me long enough."

  "Freyda does not mind."

  "‘Tis time I learned to stand on my own." She bit her lip to remind herself no more tears.

  "You already manage very well." He felt a sense of pride in that statement.

  How could he have married Astrid and thought himself to be content for life? She was capable, true, but not as much so as Gillian. Gillian would always do whatever was necessary to accomplish a task, from cooking the meals to plowing the fields. Astrid was not made of such strong stuff. Gillian was truly a gift from the gods, and he was one fortunate man. It was all he could do to keep from falling to his knees in thanks.

  "Any man would count himself lucky to have you for a wife," he told her.

  Then why do you not want me?

  Andor took her face between his hands and bent to kiss her. Gillian turned away.

  "Forgive me." He dropped his hands and stepped back.

  "I must begin preparing dinner for the men."

  "We will talk more another time...Everything will be well...with time."

  "I know," she said softly.

  He caught her arm before she could rush outside. "Freyda and Rollo are quite upset with me over Thora. ‘Twould help if you could assure them all is well."

  "Aye...I will."

  They walked outside together. Freyda was not far. She waited until Andor left to speak with his friends before approaching Gillian. Gillian focused on her task. For now she was still Andor’s wife, and it was up to her to put on a good meal.

  "Is all well?" Freyda asked in a low voice.

  "Aye...all is well."

  "And you understand about Thora?"

  Painfully so. "Yes."

  "Well, Andor said you would, but I did not believe ‘twas so." Freyda gave a light laugh. "You are a finer woman than I would be about it. If it were me, I would be furious."

  Gillian straightened and looked the other woman in the eyes. "I did not say I was happy about it. I said I understood. ‘Tis Andor’s wish and I will not make his life miserable over it. If you please, I have no more wish to discuss it."

  She hurried to fetch some vegetables for a stew before a new batch of tears could start. It was bad enough that Andor was planning to wed Thora, but to have Freyda happy that Gillian was not going to cause trouble was like rubbing salt in her wounds. Freyda and Thora had been friends since childhood. She should have realized it was a stronger bond than what she and Freyda had forged over the last months.

  Gillian suddenly felt the weight of being alone. It was the first time she’d ever been truly alone. When her mother died, she had her father. When her father died, she had her baby to look forward to. Now...nothing. And all the material worth Andor could give her wouldn’t wash it away.

  Andor watched by the fire as Gillian served up lamb stew and hot bread. It was another fine example of her cooking, but she accepted the men’s praise meekly. He hated to see her so sad. He would have given anything to see her smile or put the sparkle back in her beautiful blue eyes. Time is what it was going to take - that and patience. Although it pained him, he would wait.

  It would have helped him, though, if he had someone of greater years to advise him. He tried to imagine what his parents would say in this situation - they too knew the pain of losing a child - but no words of wisdom filtered to him.

  "I heard you speak to Egil of starting a trading route," Rollo said.

  "‘Tis needed greatly," Andor replied. "We have two great assets here - sheep and fish. Everything else we need must come from outside. If we can manage to get ships to come here regularly in the summer, we can offer dried fish and fine woolens."

  Rollo nodded. "Ropes we make from seals and whales also...But it could take many years to start such a thing. Ships come now and stay. Only a few return home."

  "I have thought of that. I could make a journey home and spread the word for us all. Father and Björn would be most interested."

  "Interested, yes, but willing?"

  "I believe so."

  "And you wish to take a journey so soon after arriving?"

  Andor looked past him to Gillian. "The time away from home might be good for Gillian. And I think Thora will wish to return to her family."

  "The men may not wish to travel again," Rollo said.

  "Egil will make sure good men are provided for the trip. After all, I would be doing this for all, not merely myself."

  Rollo stared into the fire for a few minutes. "I would not wish to go."

  "I would miss your company," Andor freely admitted, "but I will also feel better knowing you are here helping Freyda watch over my lands."

  Andor felt a woman’s hand close over his shoulder. He smiled, expecting it to be Gillian. When he looked around, it was all he could do to hide his disappointment.

  "Yes, Thora, what is it?"

  "The men are full and ready to doze off. If you wish a word with them, it should be soon."

  He thanked her and stood.

  Gillian paused in her work to watch Andor gather everyone closer. She was struck anew with his commanding presence, recalling the first time she had seen him standing on the prow of his ship. A leader of men. She had seen it then, watched him affirm that impression during their time together. Today, after his performance at the trial, there could not be a soul among them who could deny that. Pride swelled her chest. Noticing Thora hovering beside him deflated it.

  From the corner of his eye Andor saw Gillian duck into their tent. He hated to see her go, for he wanted her by his side when he spoke to the men. It would have helpe
d reaffirm in everyone’s mind that the mistress of the house would be in charge in the master’s absence. He put her hasty departure down to the trying day and emotions still raw with grief.

  "This afternoon wrought some changes in all of our lives," he began. "I wanted to reassure you that my ownership of Leif’s land will not effect you greatly. Things may go on as they have."

  A man in front snorted. "So...we can keep working ourselves to starvation?"

  "Why is that?" Andor asked.

  "The land is the poorest I have ever seen. Nothing but lyme grass grows on it."

  Andor rubbed his beard while he mulled over the problem. "The soil could use a year of fertilization. A mix of volcanic ash and animal dung should do the trick."

  "Fine for whoever comes behind us," another man grumbled. "I have a family to feed now."

  "I promise no one will starve," Andor said. "We must work hand in hand. For now we can plant more fields on my side of the river. Enough to feed all through the winter. In the meantime, those on the fallow side of the river can work the ocean and cliffs. Bring in the guillemots, fish, whales. Enough for us and then some to trade."

  There was a murmur among the men as they nodded their approval.

  "Of course," Andor said, "if any of you wish to leave for home, arrangements can be made. I am also agreeable to selling you parcels of that land for your own, if you wish."

  As he had expected, there were no offers on his last suggestion. In these uncertain times, it was much easier to rely on the generosity of a patron lord then to strike out singly. This way everyone would benefit and he was on his way to establishing a strong basis for his trading business. He could hardly wait to tell Gillian how well it had gone. Maybe it would even put the smile back in her eyes.

  Andor said his good night and accepted the thanks and gratitude of Leif’s men. A few held him up with discussion of plans they had for the land. He listened with interest. Leif had never cared for anyone’s way but his own and in so behaving had missed some fine ideas. Most of them Andor would implement when they returned.

  Finally, he was alone. He turned to say good night to Freyda and Rollo and discovered they had already gone. Only Thora remained. She sat by the fire, warming herself.