Chapter 34

Fear Not Death for the Hour of Your Doom is Set

F lies circled the gaping wound on Sigurd’s side, like meat that has been left out to spoil. He lay prone in the straw like a half-dead animal, eyes glazed. His tunic was so blood-spattered that I just hoped not all of it was his. Donada had fashioned a poultice from herbs and tied it tight with bandages. He was peppered with wounds. Slashes and punctures. Too many to count.

As the day wore on, he called out in fever.

Our travelling had been slow. It had taken almost the whole day to cross my father’s lands. We stopped a while, long enough that I might try and clean his wounds and give him a sip of mead. He swallowed it feebly and sleep had soon taken him again.

We had ridden since dawn. Ligach had spurred the mare on. Donada and I had still not spoken, but I had never been more grateful for the sight of her. Thorkell and the men that had survived the battle flanked the cart. The only noise was the rumble of the cart and the soft hitched breath of Sigurd, We had not been followed.

‘You need to rest.’ Donada whispered. ‘It isn’t good for you or the bairn.’

She was not wrong. Beneath my furs, sweat trickled between my swollen breasts with the effort of keeping myself upright and tending my husband.

‘I’ll rest when we reach Orkney,’ I said, placing a hand against Sigurd’s brow. He twisted beneath it, muttering and mumbling. ‘Stay strong.’ I bent low that I might whisper. ‘You will be back drinking the mead hall dry soon enough.’

I kissed him.

?

Darkness crept in like spilled ink across the dusk as we came upon the other camp, exhausted and bloodied. Thorkell grabbed the bridle of the mare and steadied her. I tried to climb out, stiff and unsteady from being jostled. I looked back in the direction we had travelled. No light from flickering torches. No thundering hoofbeats. We would remain unscathed, at least a little while.

We managed to get Sigurd to his feet. I slung his arm around my neck so that he might use me as a ballast. Thorkell supported him on the other side. We edged slowly, shuffling over the churned ground, Sigurd whimpering at every bump.

On the shoreline, the sails of our ships billowed like angry mouths, waiting to take us to safety.

‘Can you hold him?’ Thorkell asked over Sigurd’s shoulder. ‘Or shall I summon someone to help you?’

I nodded. ‘Aye, I can hold him, but we must be quick.’

Unsteady as he was, he tried to take his own weight, grabbing the edge of the ship and forcing himself upright. We were sheltered by a grove of trees, but it did not stop my tears from falling.

‘Leave me here,’ he said so softly I could barely hear it. ‘Leave me for the Valkyries. Hugin and Munin already watch over me.’

Thought and memory. The ravens came to settle on the bow of an ash tree, just above us. Beady eyes alight with interest. Their heads dipped and weaved, speaking to each other in soft rattles and clicks.

Startled, voices called from either side as armed men flung themselves over the gunwale, readying oars. Thorkell piled blankets of furs, one on top of the other until he had a makeshift nest for Sigurd to lie comfortably in the helm. The oak dragons stretched their necks and bared their teeth with shields that clung to the hull like barnacles.

‘Let us take him,’ said Thorkell.

They took him gently, raising him over the gunwale and settling him. My back ached terribly causing a tightness in my belly that would not shift. I rubbed at its gnawing. ‘We will be home soon little one, all of us.’

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Donada. ‘Will you sail with me? I do not want to be alone.’

‘Aye.’ She smiled. ‘Look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time. I could hardly leave you alone now, could I? Who would deliver that bairn?’

We laughed together. A weak laugh. Hot, salted tears ran in clear streaks through the dirt on my cheeks. I wiped them away with the heel of my palm.

‘No,’ I said. ‘You dare not, trouble seems intent on finding me.’ I squeezed her hand and noticed she was crying too.

‘He’ll settle when we arrive on Orkney,’ said Ligach. ‘Estrid will no doubt be clucking around him like an old hen.’ She glanced over her shoulder back towards the direction we’d come. ‘It’s time we were gone.’

I stared out across the firth, reflecting the coolness of the dusk in its stillness. ‘Aye, it’s time we said goodbye,’ I said climbing over the rail and taking my seat, Donada to my left. ‘Father will be raising an army. ‘I glanced at my husband, tattered and bleeding. ‘I will never forgive father for this.’

Now, a fleet of four, we had no time to honour our dead. So many dead. Side by side we’d squeezed together, cheek to jowl, leaving none but the dead behind. Sigurd stirred, crying out as the boat gently pitched.

I kissed his clammy forehead. ‘We will be home soon.’

He opened his eyes to speak, hollow-eyed and gaunt from pain. ‘Do you forgive me?’ he mumbled.

I bent down closer that I might hear him. ‘Forgive you? For what?’

‘For not listening.’ He grimaced, trying to face me.

‘Ack, aye, I’m furious.’ I kissed him again. ‘But it will wait until you are back on your feet.’

‘I love you,’ he whispered, closing his eyes again.

I ran my hand lightly over his hair, pushing stray bloodied hairs from his face. ‘And I you,’ I said before tucking the furs tighter around him.

I longed to smell the sea as I stared out across the vastness of the firth, pine-scattered hills opening out into a sea that was in no need of its banks. The ships cut through the firth like hot knives through butter. The more distance we put between us, the safer we would be. My father’s men were not sailors. It was Danes who owned those waters.

Before long the Ormen Korte made her way back across the Pentland Firth, wind behind her billowing sails. All about us, the perfume of the sea-salted water sprayed our faces. I listened to the rhythmic swish of the oars, once a sound that woke fear now it brought peace.

Sigurd lay still now, his face war-warn with a dreadful pallor, but I was sure the sea would soothe him. I could not relax, every time I felt my belly tighten another pain washed over me. I tried to stand, steadying myself on the gunwale. All I could think of was movement. Movement would take the pain away. How wrong I could be.

‘Where are you going?’ Donada stirred sleepily.

‘To see Sigurd.’ I pulled one of the furs to cover her shoulders. ‘Rest. We are safe.’

For then, I could not show my fear. Our ships were full of sick and injured men. If my father attacked again, we would all be dead.

I climbed awkwardly over the benches, slowed by my size. Oarsmen gave a hand to steady me as I navigated the boat. Amidships, a pain washed over me again. Much stronger than the last. I bent double, gripping the bench in front of me, my whole-body rigid.

Born too soon and it would bring a sickly child. That I knew. I breathed heavily, sagging again once the contraction had passed.

‘Olith?’ I felt Donada’s hand against my back.

‘I’m all right,’ I lied. ‘It has passed. I just need to sit.’

Two men that I did not know parted to make space for me.

‘Sit,’ said Donada. ‘You are doing too much.’

I felt the pain begin to build again.

Not now. Not Here. It is too soon. Much too soon.