Chapter 39

Rebirth

T horfinn was wrapped warmly once more and placed in my arms. I felt as though I could finally breathe again. Finally spend time in the joyous moment, without fear.

Estrid clasped her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. ‘You brought us blessings in such sadness.’

I stared down at my son. Blessed and named as his father. I hoped I had done my husband proud. I fought back tears.

‘Estrid, could I have a name fastened? As my son has?’

She busied herself, folding linens and lifting off her headdress. ‘You are Olith, that is your given name. What would you want with another?’

I studied Thorfinn sleeping soundly. Unaware of all the commotion his arrival into the world had caused. ‘I am Norse now,’ I said. ‘As my husband and my child. I wish to be known by a Norse name.’

She took my hand in hers. ‘Then I shall name you. Your name has been carved in the runes of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. Your name will be spoken as long as men have tongues. It will be spoken in the sagas and across the oceans. You are Gunhild.’ She raised her eyes to meet mine. ‘I also have an aunt Gunhild who is very good at fishing, you never know maybe it will make you better at it.’

We all laughed. I squeezed her hand.

‘Gunhild is a pretty name, and I wouldn’t be upset if I was a better fisherwoman,’ I said. ‘What do you think Thorfinn?’

His tiny nose wrinkled but he made no sound as I rocked him back and forth.

‘Gunhild it is.’ I whispered. ‘Will you name me, Estrid?’

‘It would be an honour, Jarl Gunhild,’ she said and squeezed my hand in return.

‘Aye,’ said Ligach. ‘I canna think of anything more fitting.’

Men and women crowded together, squeezed shoulder to shoulder around the central fire all drinking ale and swapping stories, faces alight with joy. I clutched Thorfinn tight, not quite knowing what was to come.

Estrid climbed on top of one of the benches so that they might see her better. I stood beside her flanked by Ligach, Thorkell and Donada. She banged her staff firmly.

‘Jarl Olith wishes to have a name fastened. A Norse name.’

Everyone stopped at the sound of her voice. I looked at the women surrounding me, grateful they were there by my side.

‘Fairest Freyja, Fensalir’s Lady, most gracious of goddess hear our hailing,’ Estrid said turning to me. ‘Olith, I give you this.’ She pinned to the front of my gown, a concave brooch inlaid with green glass beads. ‘May it tether your name to you, before the All-Father, Fairest Frigg and Mighty Thor, Gunhild Hloddvirrson, may it tether you forever to your people.’

I could feel the tears on my cheeks, hot and wet. My eyes searched the faces of the crowd, through the haze of the fire. Searching in vain for his fair hair and the broadness of his shoulders. I felt the faintest brush of warmth against my neck. I turned but there was nothing but an empty space.

‘Do you swear to the gods that you will accept this name? That you will honour it?’ Estrid began again, beating her stauf rhythmically on the bench like the longships war drums. ‘We welcome you Jarl Gunhild, in mead and mirth. Nafenfest.’

Shouts and whoops clattered about the rafters, just as they had on the day we were wed. Men and women clapped my back, congratulating me. Girls danced and boys ran through the legs of drunken parents, taunting each other with wooden swords. It was joyous.

The night crept silently across the bay. It wasn’t long before I sat slumped in my chair, exhausted. My body, torn and hollow with grief. I glanced at Sigurd’s empty chair. I could not bring myself to use it. I would ask Thorkell to put it in our bedchamber. Thorfinn stirred, ravenous for milk. I put him to my breast and closed my eyes against the tiredness.

In my sleepy haze, I thought I heard Sigurd’s voice. Like a soft whisper. My eyes flew open but were met with the face of Thorkell. ‘What is it?’ I said sleepily. ‘I thought you were Sigurd.’

He lowered his gaze. He was as sad as I was. ‘Apologies, Jarl Gunhild but we must talk of Sigurd’s burial.’

‘Where is he? Where is my husband?’ I demanded.

‘He is safe. He is buried in a shallow grave while we make preparations.’

‘I do not know any of your customs–’ My voice began to break. ‘How–’

‘I will help you all I can.’ He bowed his head. ‘I shall have the women prepare something suitable for him to wear.’

I rubbed at my tears. ‘I want him to wear what he wore on our wedding day.’

‘As you wish,’ he said. ‘Now, there is the matter of the burial.’

‘Where is he to be buried?’

‘How he is to be buried.’

‘Thorkell, do not speak in riddles.’

‘We will lay him to rest upon his ship surrounded by belongings that will ease his journey and then we will set it to a pyre. It will burn fiercely. As it turns to ash it will become his burial mound.’

‘But his ship went down in the firth. What of the Ormen Korte? Will she be grand enough?’

‘She is a masterpiece. He would have approved.’

I do not know how they will take me to my pyre. Sigurd’s sword will be at my side and perhaps they will sacrifice my mares to bring them luck. My only wish is that I meet Sigurd when my time has come, and my body is to be returned to the earth. What is done with what remains here, that is for the living to decide.

‘I want you to take his chair. It should be with him always.’ I could not look at it any longer. ‘I will need a place for Thorfinn to rest.’

‘Which of his thralls will die with him and be laid upon his pyre?’ He glanced over at Ligach. ‘What about that one?’

‘No one. I will have no one killed to lie with my husband. I will arrange his belongings, but Ligach is no thrall. She is a free woman. You will treat her as such.’

‘As you wish, Jarl Gunhild.’

He did not speak out of turn. He never did. But I would have no man’s eyes on Ligach or Donada for that matter unless they were invited. I knew nothing of this life then, I had spent so much time running away from who I was, that I had lost sight of whom I needed to be. My fate had been woven into the land beneath my feet.’

‘How many thralls did Sigurd have?’

‘A few.’

‘I want them brought to me.’ I wrapped a sleeping Thorfinn amongst his furs. ‘Bring them now.’