Chapter 16

A Debt is a Debt

H igh above, flecks against the murkiness of the evening sun, a flicker, a flash of sweet black feathers and then they were gone again. We scurried back to shore, leaving the clearing.

‘Thank Freyja! Where have you been?’ Halldora scowled at me, face like thunder. ‘I was expecting to find you dead at the hands of that slave girl.’ She glowered at Ligach. ‘I can have you bound again,’ She hissed.

‘It will take more ‘an you.’

The women went toe to toe.

‘Do not test me, girl I have taken down bigger men than you.’

‘Try it, you sour-faced bitch.’

I stepped between them. ‘That will not be necessary.’

The shoreline was littered with women. Skirts billowed and water splashed about their knees. They could have been our women, fishing on the river. Bringing fish back to sell. We were not so different us and them.

Some glanced. Others grunted. I forced a smile, but none were welcoming.

‘I must apologise.’ I lowered my gaze. ‘It took longer than expected.’

Estrid’s laugh made me start.

‘Do not lower your eyes girl, you are the Jarl’s wife and as I understand from Thorkell, he has left you to rule. Do not be commanded by Halldora. She is lower than a worm.’

I had no doubt that Sigurd would be furious when I returned. If Thorkell had been dispatched to relay his messages.

‘You are a bitch, Estrid.’ Halldora huffed.

The other women all laughed as they hauled their nets filled with gasping fish.

‘I… I…’

‘You’ll learn what it takes. It will not take you long.’ She smiled and offered me the corner of her net.

I took it gratefully hoping that there would be no more mention of Halldora or my inadequacies as the Jarl’s new bride.

To the West, the sun glinted against the polished wood of Sigurd’s ships. I raised an arm, trying to gain a better view.

‘Where is it they sail to?’

Estrid turned and followed my eye line towards the ships.

‘They sail to Frankia.’

On raids no doubt.

‘But first, they must attend The Thing at Dingieshowe.’

I did not think to ask. I had heard of sacrifices at our standing stones before God had shone his light upon us when everything was dark. Like Abraham sacrificing Isaac. Then I thought our days of being heathen monsters long gone. More is the pity. I just assumed that The Thing would have been a sea of blood, like our wedding and not a court of our Chieftains. I have attended many since my husband was chosen by Odin. There, I learned in Viking law you can avenge the death of your loved one without consequence, and that is exactly what I have spent the rest of my life doing.

A look of horror washed over Ligach’s face at the thought of sacrifice.

‘Estrid!’ Halldora shouted. ‘These fish will not catch themselves.’

‘Do they travel by sea?’ I said, lightly, being more of a hindrance than a help.

‘They will. It is not far,’ said Estrid. ‘They’ll sail at dawn.’

My eyes travelled back to the ships, like serpents with their mouths open, being loaded on Sigurd’s makeshift docks.

‘And Jarl Sigurd is to attend?’ My thoughts turned to the sorry man I had left on a mound of furs, no doubt festering angrily in our chambers waiting for me to return. I looked at the sun’s arc in the sky guiltily, knowing I had been away too long.

‘He should, but if he cannot you will have to attend in his place.’ She carried on with the fishing net, casting me a sideways glance.

‘I…’ I did not know what to say, stumbling over my words. Surely, he could not expect that I would go to The Thing as a Chieftain? ‘I have been gone far too long. I am grateful for your company, but I must return to Jarl Sigurd.’

?

By the time I’d returned, the crisp night air had filtered in through the shutters on the back of the moon casting sinister shadows. The small bells from Drest’s hood tinkled softly. I felt exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to return to the bathhouse and soak my weary bones. I could have slept for an eternity, but it was not to be.

Sigurd stood, leaning against the door frame. Watching.

I could feel my heart flutter with excitement or fear. I could not tell. It was going to take everything I had to apologise to my husband, whose face had resembled a dog licking piss from a thistle when I had returned. Although slightly bruised, he seemed in good spirits, but his tone told otherwise. I had not dared mention my meeting with Father Finatan, that I decided would be best left for another day.

‘Sigurd,’ I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. ‘It was not necessary that I should take your place and rule for the sake of one day.’

He shot me a look.

‘We leave for The Thing tomorrow,’ he said eventually. ‘You need to understand our customs and our laws. Today would have been ripe for you to learn.’

‘I beg you, Lord. I meant nothing by it. I simply thought that if I went out fishing with the rest of the women it would allow you to rest and you did not truly need me, Thorkell had–’

‘Thorkell, is not my wife,’ he said flatly.

‘What must I do that I might earn your trust?’

I studied him carefully, his jaw clenched and unclenched.

‘You will be in command while I attend The Thing. You will rule in my place, and I will hear no more on the matter.’

I bowed my head. ‘As you wish, Lord.’

‘While you are in a more agreeable mood,’ he hastened to add. ‘You will learn from the Gothi, so that you may know the stories of Thor, of Loki and of the goddess, Freyja.’

I was in no position to argue.

‘Yes, Lord,’ I said, trying to bite my tongue. I had little interest in learning anything about my husband’s gods, but I was grateful that my obedience had appeased him, even if it had left a sour taste in my mouth.

‘When we first met, why did you say I am like her?’

It had always puzzled me; other than my falcon I could never see the likeness that my husband saw.

‘Like whom?’ he smiled.

‘You know who I mean, you have said it often enough.’ He did not answer and made me say it again. ‘Like the goddess Freyja.’

The air between us crackled with expectation. If I close my eyes, I can still feel it now. My breath still hitches in the back of my throat.

‘The name Freyja means lady.’ He stepped closer, enough that I could feel the heat from his body. That his words brushed against my skin. ‘She is the one who taught the Aesir the magic of the seier,’ his hand reached out and touched my face, sweeping a piece of fallen hair behind my ear. ‘She has a cloak made from falcon feathers which allows her to travel the nine realms. She is brave, like you and when the fearless and handsome die, it is Freyja’s Hall, Sessrumnir they will be taken to, we all scream Valhalla, but it is Freyja’s Hall we covet most.’

In my heart, I know that we will be reunited in Sessrumnir.

‘My Lord, we are both women and we both have falcons. That is as much as we are alike.’ I stood before him. ‘I bring no magic. I do as my father has willed. I am no more than a coward. You do not see Freyja.’

‘You cannot tell your Jarl Sigurd what he does and does not see,’ he said playfully.

By the look on his face, all that had gone before had now been forgiven. I wanted him there and then. I could stand it no longer.

Trembling, I cast my shift to the floor revealing my nakedness.

‘Now, what does my Lord see?’

He looked at me with surprise.

He raised his hands to pull me to him.

‘No,’ I said, taking him by the hand. ‘Tonight, it is my turn.’

He followed me to the patch of moonlight on our bed of sheepskins and wolf hides. I drew him down and began to undress him. Slowly peeling away his tunic, revealing his inked skin. My lips traced the soft lines of his stomach until I reached the drawstring of his breeches, feeling the shape of him pressed against the fabric.

He did not take his eyes off mine as I finished undressing him.

He pulled me close and buried his face into my neck, nipping at my skin in a moment of pleasure. I could smell the honey on his breath and the salted sea air and sweat against his skin.

In one swift motion, he rolled me over, lips touching every part of my screaming skin. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. He spread my thighs and with a gasp was inside me.

‘My Freyja,’ he said softly. ‘My goddess. Sent to me by Odin.’ He pressed his lips to my neck. ‘I wish to honour you.’ His lips moved lower. ‘To love you.’ The words whispered against my skin. ‘To possess you.’

I quivered. A shudder swept through my body. I dug my fingers into his back, pressing him closer. He gripped me tighter.

‘Don’t stop now.’ I whispered.

‘I wasn’t going to.’

?

We lay together in the stillness of the dying fire, my head resting against him, listening to his heart beating furiously. I ran a finger across the curve of his chest, firm from the hours practicing with his shield and sword. I closed my eyes. I wanted to stay in that moment forever. For the first time in my life, I felt safe. I wanted to think of nothing but my exhaustion and the powerful thread that seemed to pull between us.

He was making me weak, but I did not care.

He opened his eyes and sighed, his lip curling into a smile. He slid down the bed almost to my navel.

‘Surely you must be tired?’

He ignored me and carried on. ‘Are you in there little one?’

‘What are you doing?’ I narrowed my eyes.

‘I am talking to my son, can you not see?’

He grinned, tracing a finger across my belly, causing my flesh to shiver. ‘Thorfinn, that is what we will call him.’

Thorfinn. I do not think it would have mattered. Boy or girl. It was something I had truly railed against. Something that I had never wanted. But in that moment, I would have been blessed to be carrying his child and knew to my bones that as long as my husband had breath in his body, he would keep us safe. Part of me wondered if he would keep my sister safe too. I wanted her to marry a Dane, to bring her to Orkney.

Somewhere in the pre-dawn light a horn a low, long note disturbed our peace.

‘It is time the ships were filled; the chieftains will not be happy if the if their Jarl turns up late.’ He planted a kiss just below my navel and jumped to his feet, pulling on his trousers and tunic before disappearing out of sight.

Angus, with his shaggy fur and warm body, climbed into the coldness of the bed where my husband should have been.

Ligach breezed in, picking up the clothes strewn on the floor, folding them angrily. I had offended her.

‘Spit it out,’ I said. ‘What is it?’

‘Is that all you wanted? Time enough to carry his child? You promised me that you would return me to Atholl.’

I did not know I was with child then. It was much too soon.

‘What happens in my bed chamber is between me and my husband. You will do good to remember.’

And with that, she flounced out.

?

The cool morning air was brisk on my face as I knelt in the white sand, throwing stones for Angus. He danced in time with the waves, tongue lolling, ears flapping and soaked to the skin. It made me think of home. I felt torn. Split in two. One half wanted to be home with Donada, to keep her safe and to protect her. I had given myself to the northern isles as a sacrifice to her and yet as soon as I was on my husband’s ships, my father had given her maidenhood to whoever knocked at his borders first.

I had not seen my husband since the early hours, scurrying like tiny ants, back and forth along the wooden dock. The ships were all but loaded with their precious cargo, ores stowed and sails unfurled, listing and rolling. Their wooden hulls were scattered about the shore like fallen autumn leaves.

I made my way towards the gathering, letting the cold sand move between my bare toes. My thoughts turned to Ligach; she had swept out of my chamber in a flurry of fabric. Angus padded softly behind.

Sigurd stood almost a head above the rest; his plait much neater than when he had left our bed chamber. Sigurd and his men would be leaving us soon. The thought of being left as my husband’s charge terrified me more than my wedding night. He was right, that they would be my people. Not that I would ever tell him and risk him thinking that he knew better. They would look to me for guidance, and eventually, I would build their trust enough that they would take it without question. I surveyed the knots of women clung to the wharf, watching. Shouts rang out in Norse, a sound my ear was not yet attuned to.

Above the waves, I could hear a thin cry. I found it coming from the group of women closest to the ships. Halldora cradled Estrid trying desperately to comfort her. As I drew nearer, I could hear the voices of the women.

‘It will be all right,’ Halldora soothed. ‘They will be home soon.’

Angus pushed past lolloping into the circle of women, forcing them apart.

‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘Why do you cry?’

‘It is her youngest son, Erik,’ Halldora said, cradling Estrid. ‘He is to sail with the rest of the thralls to Miklagard.’

‘Is he a trader?’ I said in my naivety.

They say that Miklagard is the Great City that stands high upon its shore with its silks and its spices. We have made ourselves wealthy over the years trading in flesh and fabric but then, if Sigurd had agreed punishments, he would make more selling the thralls in Miklagard than anywhere else, so that is where they would be sent.

‘No, he is no trader.’ Halldora shook her head as though I had said something I should not. ‘He was sentenced by Jarl Sigurd, to twelve months as a thrall.’

Estrid rounded on me, tears streaming. ‘Foul bitch!’ She jabbed a finger. ‘Meddling in affairs you know nothing about.’

‘I…’ my mind raced. There was nothing that I could think that I had meddled in. I had tried my best to say out of all of the affairs of my husband’s Jarldom. ‘What is it you think I have done?’

‘You know very well,’ hissed Estrid. ‘You should have warned me.’

‘I did not know, Estrid you must-.’

‘Lady Olith,’ Sigurd called out.

The rest of the women took a step back, but I could tell from the look on their faces that what we had discussed was far from finished.

He looked down at me, his face splitting into a smile. ‘Our ships are all but loaded. I will only be gone a few days.’ He kissed the top of my head. ‘The rest will flow with the current and sail on to Frankia. I will return before they do.’

Estrid glared at me from behind Sigurd, eyes heavy and ringed with tears.

He slipped my arm in his. ‘They shall bring a small fortune, especially that one.’ He gestured to a man with his back to us, dressed in a dark knitted tunic. From his baldness and shape, I could see that it could not be Erik. ‘Turn around so that my wife may see you.’

I gasped. Stood before me was Bishop Fintan.

‘You are taking the priest?’ It had only been a day since we had taken Benediction, my heart sank. I could only think that it had been my insistence that he help us. ‘Why is it you take him?’

I learned then, just what my husband thought about the Christians and just how much could be made from selling our thralls and our plunder.

Sigurd smiled. ‘He has a debt which needs to be paid.’ He jabbed a finger into Father Fintan’s back. ‘Don’t you priest?’

Words escaped me. Father Fintan made no gesture. In my heart, I felt that I was to blame, if I had not forced him to give us Benediction, he would not have been in such a position.

‘He shall be sold as a hireling and no doubt something as exotic as a priest will command a high price in Miklagard.’

‘What about his church? Does it not have silver?’ I was beginning to think like a Dane, and I hoped that it would be enough to save the priest’s life but I was frightened. ‘Father.’ I turned to the priest. ‘Where is your silver?’

‘We are a poor church,’ he said, ‘we have very little. What we had has already been taken by the first Danes that raided here.’

I did not believe him. I knew how much my father’s fat priest had squirrelled away, hidden deep within his church where he thought no one would find it. When I had been no more than nine, I had been trying to hide from him because I did not want to learn my letters. Donada was always a good girl and had sat waiting patiently, listening to his sermon. His words echoed around the stone. I wiggled myself into a gap, seeing nothing in the darkness but I could feel the cold of silver against my skin. My hands brushed against the curve of a chalice, the hard line of a cross. I listened to the chink of coins as I pressed myself further in.

Elpin had told me stories of the first raids of the sheets of light that had rushed through the air, casting whirlwinds upon the seas. Then came the fiery dragons that flew across the sky bringing with them a great famine. God would have his final vengeance when the heathens came and laid waste to the church of God through rape and slaughter and all for the trinkets that I was now pressed against. I could not understand why the monks had given their lives for a handful of plunder and I still do not understand it now.

Father Fintan would sooner be sold in debt than give up a few tarnished silver trinkets from inside the walls of his church. What were they really if not to be used for the lives of the people, for his life? What good was a silver cross if you had to lose your head to keep it?

‘Then my husband will sell you,’ I said simply, in terms I hoped he would understand. ‘Is there nothing that you could use to pay off this debt?’ I stared at him.

His face reddened.

‘No,’ he said, ‘there is nothing.’

I could not help him if he was not willing to help himself. No matter how I tried. He would die to protect those few trinkets, a pious, feeble-minded man.

‘Then, Father, I wish you well in your journey.’ I bowed my head.

He kissed my cheek. ‘Peace be with you, Lady Olith. My peace I give you.’

‘I will pray for your forgiveness, Father.’

I watched as they were loaded onto the ships, the priest and Erik included. Processions of furs and all manner of foods and bags of plunder. Objects that men seemed to value more highly than their own lives.

‘But what of Erik…’ I tried. ‘Is there no way that he could be cleared of whatever debt he owes?’

He kissed me on the head as though I were a child who did not know what they were talking about. Something that he would never do again.

‘One week,’ Sigurd barked, ignoring my question. ‘One week we will be gone. Should you need council, it is Thorkell you must ask. He will help you with our laws and customs.’ He took both my hands in his and kissed them. ‘You will be my eyes and my tongue while I am gone. You already have my heart.’ He bent low, exchanging glances with my navel. ‘And you, little one, I will soon see you grown.’ And he kissed it.

He turned to board the boat in a hail of sobs and cheers. There was treasure in that church of course and there was a time that I made the new priest dig it up when we needed it to pay for better oarsmen. I am no longer pious, not like those men and I will take what is mine and trade what I need to keep us all safe.