Chapter 26

Fight your foes in the field, nor be burnt in your house

T he events of The Thing had gone on long into the night. Somewhere around midnight, after all, six of the chieftains had drunkenly pledged their fealty for the fourth time and congratulated us on our news I crawled beneath the furs on our marital bed leaving my husband to his ale.

Sleep did not come.

I lay numbly staring at the ceiling.

By dawn, I would be on my way back to Alba, to my past and the life I had tried to run from for so long. What was left? A hateful absent mother. A half-sister that was married now with a family of her own. There was only Donada and Elpin.

Elpin. Suddenly all I could think of was the last morning I saw him, standing in the woods and asking me to leave with him. He loved me with a fierceness that was seared through him like a brand, and I him. He was the brother I had never had. I often wondered, over the years what he had thought of my marriage to Sigurd but we never spoke of it again. We focused on what came after. He never left my side. He always kept us safe and for that, I am truly grateful.

I wrapped myself in a blanket and wandered over to the cheese and bread that Ligach had left for me. There in the pewter dish, my finger traced the line of the woman who stared back at me. My mother. The woman I remembered from before. She was in the curve of my smile. My laugh. My gentleness. I would not be like her. In that moment, I thought that grief would never take me as it had her, that I would be the strength that she had never had. How foolish I had been.

My heart would soon be cleaved open. A wound that would never be healed but would need to be slowly stitched back together. I would never be whole again, but somewhere in between.

By the fireside, I took out the pieces from the Tafl board. I lifted each tiny piece, feeling the weight of the ivory in my palm and placing it on the board where it should be. I imagined our winter nights spent teaching each other games and learning each other’s worlds.

Sigurd infuriated me with his bullishness. He would never listen. He would not bend his will, but in return, he would not expect me to bend my own. In his eyes, I was not lesser than him. I was prized for my intellect. We were equals.

Byrgisey was pagan. Dangerous. A land that God had forgotten. But it was a sacred land, and my heart now belonged to it. Here, away from my father, I had flourished. Grown. I had no priest praying for my salvation. I did not need redemption. Here I was free. I had taken root like Yggdrasil, the world tree.

The soft jangle of the falcon’s hoods pulled me from my thoughts. They had taken to each other. Drest sat perched next to Freyja, dwarfed in comparison, his head turned into her shoulder. Apart, they were fearless but together they were formidable.

Somehow, we were better together than we were apart. We would travel to Atholl for the last time. I would return with Sigurd, and we would rule together. Our child would be born and grow roots in the solid earth. Sigurd could teach him stories of the old gods and I could teach him the ways of the lamb.

I crawled once again beneath the mounds of furs, content with a full belly and a warm heart. As my eyes drifted closed, Sigurd pushed open the door.

‘Olith,’ He whispered. ‘Olith, are you sleeping?’

‘I was trying to,’ I said groggily. ‘What is it?’

‘I have something to show you.’ He draped a thick blanket around my shoulders and took me by the hand, leading me through the door and out into the darkness.

The air nipped at my skin and the black ground glistened with white frost. We threaded our way between farmsteads and scattered stones. Sigurd guiding me. No candles flickered behind shutters. The quiet was broken only by the rustle of our feet through frozen grass.

The whole world slept.

‘Where are we going?’

‘You will see.’

We emerged out onto the sand, illuminated by moonlight. I glanced up and what I saw took my breath away.

‘I haven’t seen anything like it.’

Above us, the sky danced in whorls of green and blue. Trails of pink slashed the sky. It was a glowing, pulsing arc.

‘It is beautiful, but what is it?’

‘It is the light reflecting from the armour of Odin’s Valkyries, as they lead the warriors over the Bifrost Bridge, showing them the way to Valhalla.’ He came behind me then and wrapped his arms around me. ‘It is a good omen for warriors that go into battle, they will be taken to Valhalla.’

I would not let Odin take him from me.

I turned to him and kissed his cheek. My heart beating in my chest. ‘Do not go to war for him.’ He pressed me closer. ‘We will visit with him as we agreed but it is his war, not ours.’

‘On our wedding day when we exchanged our ancestor’s swords, we were bound. I will not go against Finnleik, I am no fool, but I cannot go back on my word and I will hear your father out.’

I nodded, head leaning on his chest. We held each other without speaking. Our eyes fixed on the beautiful colours that undulated and rippled across the sky. The realisation crept over me that I would have to tell him the truth. No matter what hurt it would cause. If he was to ever trust me, I had to tell him.

‘I need to tell you something.’ I felt as though I might be sick. Closing my eyes against the feeling. ‘You will think of me differently.’

I pushed myself away from him. I could not bear the touch of his skin against the burning guilt of my own. I wrapped my arms around myself and turned to face him.

‘There is nothing that you could say that would make me think that.’

‘You must remember, whatever else is said, that I love you.’ I felt the chill of tears against my cheeks.

He was still as a stone carving. Eyes fixed on mine.

‘Our marriage suited my father,’ I said, wiping away tears with the heel of my palm. ‘He wanted peace at his borders, nothing more. It was Donada that should have been your bride.’

‘This is nothing I do not know already.’

‘She is my sister. I have looked after her since she was a child. I did not want to see her raped by a Danish husband.’ I reached for his hand. ‘So, I took her place. I had to make you choose me. There was nothing else for it. I had never planned on staying, I do not know if–’

Sigurd intervened. ‘I did not want a pious, trout-faced bride and thought twice about it after our first meeting. It did not turn out so badly.’

‘Pious trout face?’ There I was, pouring my heart out, trying to make him see how much I truly loved him, after all, I had thought of him and he had managed to infuriate me all over again. There has been no one else who could come close to making me love them and hate them all at the same time. ‘And now?’

‘What of it? I’ve had worse.’

‘Worse?’ I clenched my fists. ‘God help me, Sigurd. I do not know how you have survived as long as you have without someone wrapping their hands around your neck.’

Sigurd laughed. ‘I do love it when you are angry.’

‘Then you can keep loving me for at least the next week!’

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him. I tried to push him away but he only held me tighter. He kissed the top of my head. I was as angry as a cat in a sack.

‘What had gone before does not matter. What we have now, that is what is important.’ He stroked my hair. ‘We were thrown together by allegiance, not love.’

‘We were thrown together by a father I do not trust,’ I spat. ‘But it was all for nothing if he is to give Donada to Finnleik.’

‘We will sail to Atholl, but I do not know how much it will help.’

‘If we do not go, it would risk her certain death.’

‘ Fight your foes in the field, nor be burnt in your house, ’ Sigurd said. ‘We have to take this fight to them.’