Chapter 40

Old Love Does not Corrode

T hey had feasted on mead and buttered roots. Sea trout and mutton. For days there was no end to their celebration of Sigurd’s life. For me, there seemed to be no end to my grief. In their company, I had not had time to think of the events of the days that had passed. Alone at night in the darkness of my chamber with only Thorfinn and Angus for company, I cried until there were no tears left.

On the night of my name fastening, I had stood before them all and I had freed every one of Sigurd’s thralls and given them my protection. There would be none to be used as an offering for his pyre. I had looked up to find Thorkell glowering at me, leaning on the doorpost with his usual disdain but I was not my husband. I was not my father. I needed to rule in my own way. On my own terms. No matter who was angered in the process.

Tonight was the final night of honouring Sigurd’s life and the lives of the others that had been lost in my father’s ambush. Sigurd’s was the only body that had returned home. To my shame, I did not know the names of all who were lost but I had asked Thorkell to go to the Ring of Stones and carve each of their names into the stone so that they would be remembered. Never forgotten.

By sunrise, Sigurd’s body would be left to the worms for the final time. Each night before I retired, I had snuck down to his shallow grave to speak with him and tell him of our day before I crawled back beneath the bedclothes that still smelled of him.

I stared down at a sleeping Thorfinn, touching his face with gentle fingers, tracing his button fingers and rosebud mouth. He was all I had left of him. Tears trickled again. The heaviness of holding myself together made my body ache.

Women danced and men chanted. Outside, a northerly wind buffeted our thatches, bringing with it a mournful keening of the Caoineag.

Through the throng I watched Donada’s red braid approach, carrying a tray of warm bread and curds. ‘The thralls have given thanks for your protection. Will you eat something?’

In a matter of days, she had settled in as though we had never been apart. That I had never betrayed her. She had never wanted to marry the Earl of Moray it had always been our father. She thought the adventure of Orkney and living amongst the Danes suited her much better.

‘You are the last in a long line of women who are trying to fatten me up.’ I forced a smile. ‘Estrid brought me eel. Halldora, beets and roots. If you carry on much longer I’ll no fit into my gowns and I will be asking you to unpick the stitching.’

‘Aye, we all know you do not eat more than a sparrow.’

Thorkell, already dressed in his finest clothes came to stand beside me. He was as loyal as a dog and brave as a wolf.

‘Thorkell, I have something to ask of you, but I will understand if the answer is no.’

‘I cannot answer a question I have not heard.’

‘My son, Thorfinn is fatherless. His Norse grandfather is with his ancestors in Valhalla.’ He nodded slowly. ‘I have cut my father from my life like a poisonous limb. He will have no one to teach him how to be a man. No one to teach him how to fight. No one to teach him how to sail. There is only so much a mother can do.’

‘He will grow into a fine man,’ he said, looking down on him.

‘That I cannot deny but what I am asking Thorfinn is will you foster him? Will you be the father he does not have? Will you teach him what it is to be a man?’

He lowered his gaze. ‘I am already wed, Jarl Gunhild. I am sure there will be many men who would–’

I started to laugh. A deep belly-aching laugh. It had been so long since I had. ‘I am in no need of a husband! I am Jarl. Why would I need a husband?’ I stifled another giggle. ‘But what I need is someone who will teach my son the ways of being a man, Thorkell. You are a fine role model for any boy. I know that you and your wife have not been blessed with children of your own. You were Sigurd’s closest advisor and friend. I wish that you might teach him to be a good man, like you.’

His face split into an enormous smile. ‘I would be honoured, Jarl Gunhild. I will be there for him always. As though he were my own son. Before Odin. Before the goddess Freyja.’

‘That is settled.’ I turned to Donada. ‘Will you take Thorfinn? There is something I must do.’

?

Outside, the twilight pulsed and shimmered with pinks and greens. The light reflected from the armour of Odin’s Valkyries, waiting patiently to take Sigurd over the Bifrost bridge and show him the way to Valhalla.

I pulled my plaid tight around my shoulders to keep out the biting wind. Even in the darkness, my feet knew the way, retracing the same steps I had taken every night. Past the carvings of Odin and Frigg and through the muddy track that led back behind the steading. I kept my eyes on the ground, stepping slowly as the path slowed downwards towards the small mound of fresh dirt.

‘I hope I am not too late,’ I whispered, tucking my skirts beneath me to keep out the dampness of the earth. ‘I have news of Thorfinn, I have asked Thorkell to foster him. To show him what you cannot.’

Silence. But in the silence, I found comfort.

I touched my hand to the mound. ‘We have been flooded with gifts and tributes. More than we can fit on your ship. I plan on giving what cannot be used to the families of those who have lost as I have.’

High above us, the stars of Ulfs Keptr glistened behind the veil of the Valkyrie’s armour, teeth bared and mouth open, hunting the moon and guarding the gates to Hel.

‘They have come for you. Odin will wait no longer to have you at his table.’

I choked back the words. My voice broke. I had washed his body and cleaned the dirt from his fingers. I had brushed his hair and braided it the way he always liked it, remembering the first time I had laid eyes upon him. Now, all I wanted was to bury my face in it. To breathe in his scent. To kiss soft lips. To feel the warmth of his embrace.

‘You were right when you said the gods had woven our destinies. Our fates intertwined as the wolf and the bear.’ I curled myself down and laid my head against the mound touching the silver bracelet on my wrist. ‘It is always you that I will be bound to. In life and in death.’ Tears flowed freely now. ‘This is not goodbye, Sigurd Hlodvirrson. You will wait for us and we will be together again. Good night, my love. Sleep well.’