Shieldmaiden

by Marianne Whiting

  ‘It seems a long time ago, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter. Things have not fared well with us.’

  Ragnar’s mother, Aisgerd, received me at the entrance to the hall. I held up Kveldulf and she never expressed any doubt that he was her grandson.

  ‘He looks like Ragnar when he was that age,’ she said. ‘I don’t know where he is, Sigrid. I have not seen him since he fled from Hakon.’ Her voice was sad but her eyes shone when she looked at Kveldulf. He had spotted a litter of piglets and toddled off towards them, arms outstretched:

  ‘Svine, svine, little svine,’ he called.

  We were invited in and served with curds and coarse bread. I explained our situation and asked if Aisgerd would give us shelter. Her lips trembled when she heard of the threat to Kveldulf ’s life.

  ‘Of course, you must stay here. What little I own is yours to help pay your debt but I doubt it will be enough. We live a simple life. I have but few servants and thralls to do the work. Nobody visits the family of a traitor. My daughters live with me, unmarried, cursed by their father’s actions. Three full moons ago we were attacked by cattle-raiders and lost much of our stock. They killed one of my servants and the best of my dogs. It was the second raid since we settled here. I don’t feel safe but have nowhere else to go.’ She began moaning and rocking in her seat. ‘How my life is blighted by the actions of that husband of mine. Swein caused so much suffering, so much.’

  I sat, at a loss for what to say, waiting for her to calm down. Brother Ansgar leant across and took her hand.

  ‘You must put your trust in our Lord Jesus and he will lead you to salvation.’

  I tried to kick him but he moved his foot out of reach. Aisgerd pulled her hand free and got up.

  ‘My people will be back, wanting their evening meal.’

  ‘We shall help. Brother Ansgar will fetch water, if you tell him where from.’ He answered my glare with one of his sublime smiles.

  We settled in to life on the farm at Buttermere. Despite their losses they kept ten cows and numerous sheep up on the fell. But with only five men, four of them old, the fifth a boy, very little land had been ploughed. Aisgerd’s daughters, Thora and Gyda were with four of the thralls up on the fell, tending the cattle. I saw them only occasionally when one of them came down from the hills with the butter and cheese they had made and to collect provisions for another week. It was strange to be in a place so empty of children. One of the servant women had a girl of about eight and a lad of ten but that was all. The household made Olvir welcome and everyone fussed over Kveldulf.

  Aisgerd seemed to have spent more time bemoaning her ill fortune than trying to improve it. With the two girls and the strongest workers away in the summer-shieling, I found the household looked to me for guidance. The house must be repaired but first we needed food for the winter. I set the men to plough the neglected fields. They shook their heads when I led Thorfinn’s stallion and my mare out and shackled them to the plough. It was against our ways to use good horses for ploughing, they muttered. But when I showed them that by alternating the horses with the oxen, they were able to get twice as much done, their objections stopped. After all, who was left on the farm to ride a great stallion?

  Olvir and the other children collected fire-wood and the old women foraged for mushrooms, leeks, apples and other wild food to store for the winter. I made Ansgar help me repair dry-stone walls and prepare the meadows for the return of the animals from their summer grazing. I found he was not as useless with tools as he had seemed during the harvest at Swanhill. When I asked him about this he smiled.

  ‘I have thought about what you said and I have come to realise that, around here, people need practical help as well as salvation. Jesus Christ told of the good farmer who prepares the ground so his seeds grow well and give a good harvest. If the scribe has to turn farmer in order to prepare the minds of the people so he can sow the word of our Lord, then so be it.’ I noticed then his hands, blistered and grazed, with dirt under broken nails.

  The blood-money I owed Yngvar’s family was due to be paid and I rode to Rannerdale to speak with them. I brought what was left of my dowry; two drinking-horns inlaid with silver, the tapestry, my brooches, neck-rings, armlets and finger-rings, some fine linen and furs. Aisgerd gave me fifteen silver coins and a bowl made of gold and silver with pictures of Odin and his ravens. She offered her jewellery too but it would have left us all destitute.

  ‘I shall come with you though, Sigrid. I am on friendly terms with Yngvar’s family. He was one of Swein’s housekarls before we came here. I may be able to persuade the widow and her son to take some of the payment in animals.’

  It was a short ride to Rannerdale but on the rough ground our progress was slow. We dismounted to ford Grassgarth Beck. As I helped Aisgerd back on her mare I heard the sound of hooves behind us. I led our horses out of sight behind the trees. Dragonclaw, the sword I had obtained as replacement for Snakebite, slid silent and ready out of her scabbard. I crept up to the track. The rider stopped and looked round. I stepped out of my hiding-place and challenged him:

  ‘Brother Ansgar!’ He looked embarrassed.

  ‘Sigrid, I felt you should have a man with you on this errand. Olvir wanted to come too but Kveldulf cried when he tried to leave and we decided…’

  ‘You decided! Since when were you and Olvir in a position to say whether you go or stay? Who’s taking food to the people in the shieling?’

  Ansgar drew a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.

  ‘It’s all been seen to. The boy Bjarne and his sister will do it.’ There seemed little point in sending him back so Ansgar joined us for the journey.

  Yngvar’s farm in Rannerdale was as modest as ours in Buttermere but there was more life and movement. A pack of barking dogs followed by a gaggle of children ran to meet us.

  ‘Aisgerd, Aisgerd! Have you brought Gyda? Will she tell us stories?’ They stopped short when they saw me and Ansgar. ‘Who have you brought? Who’s that funny man in a dress?’

  The older boys took the bridles and led our horses into the yard. A comely woman, with auburn curls escaping from her neat headdress, greeted us and bade us go inside. A small child sat on her hip, regarding us with wide-open, blue eyes. Aisgerd introduced the woman as Yngvar’s widow Hrodney. She asked us inside and sent a girl to fetch bread and ale. Before the girl returned a young man stormed through the door and confronted us.

  ‘My father’s cowardly murderer! I demand retribution.’ I stood up and faced him.

  ‘I killed your father in a fair fight after he killed my husband. There was no cowardice and no murder, just one killing to avenge another. I regret it happening but it was the destiny the Norns had woven for us.’

  Hrodney put her hand on her son’s shoulder.

  ‘Anlaf, son, we have agreed to accept weirgeld.’

  He shook her off and with an angry gait went and sat in the high seat. Anlaf was, at fifteen, head of the household and Hrodney deferred to him. The young man, full of his newfound authority, was greedy and unyielding.

  ‘We will take your goods as part-payment but it is not enough. For us to give up the blood-debt, we want you to serve as our thrall for a full year.’

  I resisted the urge to slap his leering face. Work as a thrallwoman and be used for his pleasure. His mother reddened and looked at me then at him then at the floor.

  ‘What I’m offering is a fair sum for a free man.’ But Anlaf shook his head.

  ‘Not any free man, a land-owner.’ His mother said to him in an entreating voice:

  ‘Perhaps we should wait for Thorfinn to return from the fell and ask his advice.’

  ‘Thorfinn!’ Aisgerd and I said at the same time. The man I had twice left for dead, thinking I would not meet him again. So he’d escaped Aethelstan’s soldiers and now he was here. I thought the Aesirs had turned against me and prepared me a cruel fate. Aisgerd, ignorant of my previous run-ins with Thorfinn, slapped the flat of her hand on the table.

  �
�Thorfinn is with you? Why? Since when? He is one of my husband’s housekarls. His duty is with me.’

  The odious boy looked at her with his insolent grin: ‘Traitors have no claim on anyone’s loyalty. Dead traitors even less so.’

  Aisgerd looked like he’d slapped her. She lowered her head and I saw a tear following a furrow in her sunken cheek. Hrodney took her hand and kissed it.

  ‘Forgive my son his lack of respect,’ she said. ‘He is young and the loss of his father still weighs on his mind.’

  The thought of Thorfinn arriving to find his stolen horse tethered by the trough in the yard and find me in the house, made sweat break out on my brow. I tried to hurry a decision.

  ‘I can contribute animals to make the sum fit for a land-owner.’ Anlaf shook his head.

  ‘We have plenty of animals. We need workers. We’re clearing more land. A strong, healthy thrall is what we need.’

  His eyes were fixed on me and I pulled my shawl tighter across my chest. Brother Ansgar had been quiet throughout but now he spoke:

  ‘I shall offer myself in Sigrid’s place. If you need help to clear the land, a man is more use than a woman with a small child.’

  Hrodney, with a relieved smile, agreed at once. Anlaf frowned but had no argument. And so it was settled.

  We had paid the blood-money but we still had to survive the winter. The cows were brought back from the fells and with them came Thora, Gyda, two female servants, a male servant and a male thrall. I set the men to repair the roof, the women to proof the walls and the children to collect fresh reeds to cover the earth floor. The cows had given good milk during the summer and our stores were full of cheese and butter. But the harvest had been poor. With six good workers gone with the cattle for the summer, there had not been enough hands to gather it all in. Autumn brought rain and cold winds. Despite our efforts, the ploughing had to be abandoned before all fields were done. It was too wet. As grass and weeds invaded, we tried to put some cattle to graze on the stubble but their feet rotted in the mud and we had to bring them in.

  We had to decide how many animals we could feed until spring. Two heifers, a bull-calf and two sows were selected for sale or barter against salt, a new ploughshare and other items we could not produce ourselves. Anlaf visited to discuss a time when a trading party from the three farms along Buttermere and Crummockwater could set off together for the market in Keswick. The arrival of the young man caused a stir in the household. Aisgerd received him with a polite but cool greeting. I heard the two sisters chatting and laughing with him and realised how little company of their own age they had. I took Olvir and Kveldulf picking mushrooms to keep out of the way of Anlaf ’s ogling.

  Ten days later the animals were driven off. Thora and three of the men went. They would join the party from Rannerdale and one from a farm further along Crummockwater. Gyda was upset not to be allowed to go and maintained a sullen silence until her sister returned four days later.

  Aisgerd seemed relieved to hand over the decision-making to me. When her daughters returned from the shieling she continued to treat me like a daughter-in-law and honoured me by asking my advice in everything. Her two daughters were more reserved. I became aware of a distance between them and Aisgerd. They spoke with her only when necessary and mostly about practical matters. At the same time they were very close to each other and spent most of their time together. The sound of their talking and singing surrounded them like an invisible shield. They showed more warmth towards the old servants than towards their mother.

  Thora and Gyda made no comment about me and Kveldulf coming to live on the farm. And yet, they would have heard rumours. They must have had questions. They showed me neither friendship nor hostility but spoke as little to me as to their mother. I found myself much in Aisgerd’s company. She had been very lonely since the flight from Manx and Jarl Swein’s death and she seemed pleased to have someone to confide in. We sat side by side in the late autumn sunshine carding the last of the summer’s wool.

  ‘You see, Sigrid,’ she said, ‘I haven’t been able to make myself raise a stone or hold a funeral for Swein. Many think ill of me for this. They say that, whatever he did wrong, he paid for it and he was a Jarl and entitled to a decent sending off. I think that’s why all the housekarls, well except for Thorfinn, have abandoned me. They just stopped calling in, one by one they drifted off. They can’t all be dead, can they now?’

  ‘Why didn’t you honour him? My father got a stone and, I was told, a funeral.’ Aisgerd snorted.

  ‘That’s different. Your father put his blood-brother above his king. It was foolish but brave. He remained an honourable man to the end. Swein had no honour. He robbed from friend and foe alike without any thought to the consequences. I have to say…’she threw down her carding-combs and her voice shrank to an angry whisper: ‘You should know and your father Kveldulf should have known that Swein would never have done for anyone what your father did for him. Your father’s death was a waste of a good man. I should have warned him. It’s on my conscience.’ She hid her face in her hands and began rocking back and forth. I put a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Calm yourself, Aisgerd! You are not to blame.’ I thought of the arguments I had overheard between my parents. ‘My father had plenty of warnings. Yours would have made no difference.’

  Aisgerd was, at first, reluctant to speak of Ragnar, but the story came out bit by bit. Not that she had much to tell. Ragnar had stayed a couple of days with her but when they got news about the events at Becklund he had realised he would not be safe. He had not told her where he was going. It was better for her not to know.

  ‘Two summers have gone since I saw him and not a word. But, Sigrid, he’s alive. I would know if anything had happened to him. You do believe me don’t you?’

  I nodded. Yes, I thought, I would know too if anything had befallen my son.

  ‘You see,’ she said, ‘you never feel for your man what you feel for your children. Your love for your children overrides all other.’

  I wasn’t so sure. I thought of the way I had left my child. How I had been in the grip of a fever. That hadn’t changed. The memory of Ragnar’s embrace made my body tingle and my breath quicken. Despite my disappointment not to find him at Brunnanburh there wasn’t a day when I didn’t imagine him entering the farm-yard to take me in his arms and there wasn’t a night when I didn’t dream of him making love to me. I knew I would never leave my child again but I also knew that I would go searching for Ragnar at the slightest hope of finding him.

  14.

  So we formed a bond, the mother and the lover, both waiting for Ragnar. And in the background, sufficient to each other, keeping themselves apart, were the two sisters. A tension developed between us which grew into the winter. I thought they felt displaced in their mother’s affection and tried to involve them in our conversations. They were polite but cold. They ignored Olvir and only Kveldulf could sometimes raise a smile from them.

  ‘I think it’s got to do with men,’ said Olvir.

  ‘What has?’ We were catching our breath from sawing up a tree, blown over in the latest storm.

  ‘Those two. Thora and Gyda. The way they are. I seen them looking at that boy from Rannerdale when he came over.’

  I knew I should have slapped him for gossiping about the girls but I was intrigued. Olvir never needed encouragement to share his observations with the rest of the world so he continued:

  ‘Stands to reason. They should be married by now. They’re as old as you are. But they must be desperate to even look at that…’

  ‘That’s enough, Olvir. You owe them respect.’

  I picked up my end of the saw and Olvir went to his side of the tree. It took a long time to saw through the whole trunk. When the last cob rolled away, ready to be chopped into logs, the sun was low in the sky. We would have to return tomorrow with one of the oxen to drag the wood back to the farm. On the way home it became clear that Olvir had more to say:

  ‘I think it’s bec
ause they haven’t got any dowries.’

  ‘Yes, that’s possible.’

  ‘And I think they blame us.’

  ‘What!’ I stopped, my mouth wide open. Olvir turned and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Think about it,’ he said, ‘where did the last of the money go?’

  ‘Olvir, who have you been talking to? Have you been listening to people without them knowing?’ When I thought about it, I had to admit that, however he came on his information, Olvir was probably right. The coins and the bowl, used to pay Yngvar’s weirgeld, may have been set aside for a dowry. I decided I had to ask Aisgerd about this.

  She was adamant: ‘No they were not for dowries. The reason being that no suitable men would consider marriage to the daughters of a traitor and I will not consent to having one of my husband’s housekarls for a son-in-law, nor a poor farmer’s son from Rannerdale.’ I chose not to remind her that my father had been a housekarl albeit to a king.

  ‘But what will happen to them if…?’ This was the first time I had contemplated the possibility of Ragnar not returning and the words would not be forced through the tightness in my throat.

  ‘If Ragnar doesn’t return, you mean. Well, then I’m afraid you’ll have to come clean about who Kveldulf ’s father is, so he can have the farm.’

  I thought this over. It would make little difference to me. Since the lawmen’s ruling nobody thought Hauk was Kveldulf ’s father anyway. My reputation didn’t matter. I was not interested in finding another husband.

  ‘I would be glad to do that but, even supposing people believed me, does Ragnar have a claim on the farm? He’s an outlaw. I lost Becklund because my father was branded an outlaw. How safe are you yourself here?’