Chapter 23

No Room at the Inn

I t was late afternoon when we arrived in a hail of commotion at the trading port of Hamnavoe. We had travelled in grim silence. Not a word spoken between us. I had followed grudgingly. Upset and angry, mainly at my own hot temper. Then, I would not be swayed. I was as pigheaded as Sigurd and twice as cunning, at least I thought I was and I had planned on stopping my sister’s wedding, with or without my husband’s help.

The port was alive with life and the sounds of the churning sea. There must have been a hundred traders all packing up their goods when we arrived. We moved through warrens of stalls filled with all manner of exotic furs, from bear to boar and animals I had never even seen. Now, this is to be our main trade with Miklagard. Even in my old age, I love to weave my way through the stalls breathing in the heavy smells of the spices and listen to the tinkling of trinkets and the clatter of metal. Sounds and smells that soothed my soul.

As we moved further through the maze we came upon animal pens: aurochs yawning lazily, goats bleating with eyes like glass beads staring back at us. It was nothing like our markets in Atholl.

‘What is this place?’ I whispered, for a moment forgetting my husband’s bruised feelings.

‘It is my greatest accomplishment,’ he said sharply. ‘Our port sits along one of the busiest waterways. We receive trade from Iceland, Norway, Denmark and now Miklagard.’

‘Miklagard?’

‘In your tongue, it is Constantinople, The Great City.’

I glanced around. It teemed with merchants and traders. Part of me wondered if my father had known of its existence, that in gifting me to Sigurd and renting my womb it would somehow allow him to grow his own wealth.

One of the last stalls caught my eye. A Viking merchant, narrow and thin as a whip stood in front of the stall, consisting of four animal pens. Inside each, there were men and women, all of them chained hand to foot. Some had arms and legs covered in tattoos, others were covered in the blue woad of the Picts. The seller called out to passersby.

‘We still have thralls left, good strong women who can help about the farm,’ he shouted.

‘Where did you find these men and women?’ I asked.

‘My good lady, can I interest you in something? My men have all been sold, but these women, they would be good to work your farm and help with the children.’

I looked at the men. Good strong men who would be able to sail ships for me. In my guileless way, a plan had formed. I would purchase enough men for my army. We would sail together to Atholl, and I would stop Finnleik. I was nothing but foolish.

‘How did you come by the men?’

‘A settlement of gambling debts.’ He pulled a chain that linked the two men, filthy and beaten.

‘Are they for sale?’

‘No. They are headed to Iceland as oarsmen for Olaf Christensen’s ships.’

‘Would he be willing to sell them?’

‘My wife does not want to purchase any thralls,’ said Sigurd, trying to steer me away. ‘We want nothing.’

‘My husband speaks for himself.’ I glowered. ‘And these women?’

If I could not have men, women would do. Sigurd’s shieldmaidens were as fearsome as his men, if not more so.

‘Those women are the spoils of raiding. Beauties are they not? Would your husband like some concubines?’

The two women, both younger than me were trembling, hands clasped together for comfort. They wore nothing but rags, skin burnt red with the cold. Wisps of purple bruising marked their wrists and ankles where they had been bound. Stood before them, I did not want to make shieldmaidens of them, I wanted to cry for them as they waited to be raped by the first man that would give him his price.

‘I will take them both.’

‘You have a very fortunate husband,’ the merchant crooned.

‘I do not think that is what she intends.’ Sigurd snapped. ‘Woman, you do not have to do this.’

‘I want them both.’ I did not look in his direction.

Whether thralls or not. Icelanders or not. I could not allow them to be given to the first man that felt he should own them. That wanted to take their bodies for his own. The more our mother had cried for our brother, the more neglectful she became. I was not my mother. I could not stand by.

‘Give him his price, Jarl Sigurd.’

Realisation spread across the merchant’s face as he glanced first at Sigurd and then at me.

‘They are thralls,’ Sigurd growled. ‘They are not fighters. They are nothing. Two women do not make an army.’

‘An army! You think I am doing this because I want an army? I’m taking these women to stop them being raped over and over again by men like you! By men who think they own them.’

‘By men like me!’ Now we were drawing an audience. ‘First, you want to raise an army and now, now you want to go around buying thralls so that men can no longer have concubines. What is the matter with you?’

‘What is the matter with me?’ I tried to shake him off, but his fingers dug into my upper arm. ‘I’ll tell ya. I am Jarl in every way. Yer happy ta leave me when it suits you to go raiding, like some cuckoo in a nest. I am your eyes, and I am your voice but only when those words come from Thorkell! Well today, I am Jarl. These are my words, and I am buying these women.’ My accent was growing thicker by the second the angrier I got.

‘When they are sold it will make way for the next and the next. It does not stop because you have bought these two women!’

‘But it stops for them.’ I pushed out my chin. I would not be moved. ‘Merchant, I will take these women.’ My gaze did not leave my husband.

I am only lucky that Sigurd was a good man, I think another Dane or any man for that matter might have throttled me for causing such embarrassment. I never could hold my tongue, not if my life depended on it.

‘How much?’ Sigurd’s face flushed with fury, but he slackened his grip. ‘For this gift for my wife.’ He emphasised the wife.

‘Jarl Sigurd, I did not recognise…. It will be a small price; I will take three silver pennigar each.’

‘Two and you will give them to my wife.’

The merchant thought for a second before unfastening the chain from the post and handed it to me, the women stumbling after him.

‘It is all right.’ I tried, saying it louder than I would, unsure of which language they spoke. ‘I will not let them hurt you.’

Sigurd tipped the coins into his waiting hand.

‘Will you remove their chains?’

‘What will you do next? Give them the meat from my bowl while I eat it. Give them my bed?’

I made a determined effort to ignore my husband’s protests.

‘You do not need to ask my husband’s permission. I am capable of speaking for myself. Now, untie them.’

The merchant glanced again at Sigurd.

‘Forgive my wife she seems to have forgotten her place.’

There it was. I could feel my indignation bubble. Equal. We were not equal outside of our bedroom. He was Jarl and I, simply his wife.

‘Oh please.’ I knelt extravagantly before them both. ‘Forgive my rudeness. If it pleases my husband, then you may untie them.’

‘Untie them,’ Sigurd said and turned to me. ‘Do not try that again.’

As their hands were unbound, they trembled, eyes wide with fear. The taller of the two began to cry.

‘You are safe now.’ I laboured the words. I turned to Sigurd. ‘You will make them free women. Both of them.’

‘I will do no such thing.’

I watched my husband stalk off for the second time that day.

?

Winter always comes early this far north, with a bitter chill in the air.

The sun sat cool against the unblemished sky. I had followed my sullen husband on my mare as he’d reined his horse through the dispersing crowd, all the while beckoning the women to follow.

Before long we were moving back towards our home. Sigurd had barely uttered a word to me since we’d left the maze of stalls in Hamnavoe. We had ridden in grim silence. He was furious.

I was in no mood for his anger. I was upset and angry with myself for ever thinking that I had been his equal. That I would ever be anything more than a pretty trinket for his arm like his gold circlets. Soon I would be back in Atholl, bringing my sister home and setting us both free from my father.

Going had been slow with two frail women in tow. Bare feet and naked but for a few torn rags. I had taken off my cloak and gave them it to share. The bairn in my belly lit me like a brazier.

We travelled until dusk. Drest and Freyja circling high above. My body ached as though my bones had been rattled. Up ahead in the distance, I saw the faint smudge of a farmstead hoping that they would be able to give us shelter.

‘Names?’ I said slowly.

They shook their heads.

I tried again in what little Norse I knew. Still nothing.

‘Olith.’ I patted my chest to explain. ‘I am Olith.’

They did not answer but stared at me doubtfully.

‘You are safe. No harm will come to you.’

I had taken on two women from who knows where and expected that they would be grateful for my help. As I stared at their empty faces I felt a flutter of regret, something I would not be telling my husband about.

As we drew closer, I watched two ravens settle on the eves of a crooked farmstead in the distance. Below, a man and woman stood before he ducked his head and disappeared inside, coughing and spluttering.

‘Sigurd.’ I called out after him, but he would not listen, passing the farmstead without so much as a glance. Too busy sulking. I had done nothing wrong. If I had travelled there alone and purchased them, they were mine to do with as I saw fit, it was not a decision for him to make.

As we reached the walled boundary of her land, the stout walked towards us, taking short quick strides across the field.

‘Can I help ye?’ she said, bristling.

Instantly, I recognised my voice in hers. If my husband was going to insist on ignoring me then I would find my own shelter and he could sleep in the barn with the swine.

‘Aye, I am wearied by the journey.’ I paused. ‘Would it be possible to trouble you for somewhere to rest our heads?’

‘Who did ye say you were?’ She said, looking first at my Viking husband and then at the half-naked women with us.

My husband reined his horse back around to meet us.

‘Why did you no say? Of course.’ The woman gave a nervous smile and ushered us over. ‘You must stay here tonight. I’ll no hear another word about it. You can rest your horses in our barn. And your thralls?’

I flinched at the word. ‘We are truly grateful,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘These are free women, from the trading post in Hamnavoe. They are in need of a good meal and some warm clothes if you can help?’

‘Of course. Of course,’ she said looking the women over.

‘We will reimburse you for your kindness of course.’

‘There is no need.’ She waved a calloused hand ‘Would you all care for some milk?’

Her husband came bustling from inside carrying an armful of dirty wooden bowls.

‘Fergus,’ she said with a trill. ‘We have Jarl Sigurd and Lady Olith come as our guests and they have two women in need of our help.’

There was a moment of silence while his eyes adjusted to the dimness. Flummoxed he placed the bowls on the floor and dusted his hands against his breeches.

‘Jarl Sigurd, it is my pleasure to have you as a guest in our hut. Ye must understand it will not be what you are used to, but it is clean and comfortable.’

‘I must thank you both.’ I smiled. ‘On behalf of myself and Jarl Sigurd. I am bone weary. It has been a long while since I last rode. We were trying to make it back to Byrgisey, but the journey has been much slower than we expected.’

‘You must rest.’ She whipped around to face her husband as only a flustered wife could. ‘Fergus, be of some use and take the horses and get them settled in the barn.’

‘Aye, Bridgid.’

Sigurd slipped from his saddle and lifted me down with care, my hands resting on his shoulders. He would not look in my direction. His muscles were stiff as though he were on the verge of eruption. He was furious.