Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Elin adjusted her position against the pillows, wincing with the movement. Bothild had stepped out, declaring she'd return not only with eggs from her hens but carrying honey Signy had promised her and a jug of mead from Grethe. The latter, in particular, was a privilege to receive, for Grethe kept her mead closely guarded, only trading when it suited her.

‘Twas a relief to be alone for a while, though Elin was grateful for all Bothild had done for her these past days. She tried not to be annoyed that Bothild refused to speak of Rangvald, as if pretending he did not exist. She'd taken the same approach with the injury itself, doing all in her power to prevent Elin from looking upon the place Bothild had carefully stitched.

No doubt Bothild sought to ease Elin's distress, covering the swathe of bruising above her left breast with linen bindings, but Elin didn't need to view the blooming purple beneath her skin to be aware of the damage she'd sustained. The incision from the knife was small, yet she caught her breath at every small movement.

Bothild had prepared the same brew Elin had once pressed upon Rangvald to alleviate her discomfort. However, no amount of sleeping draught could soothe the deeper pain she carried.

There was a great deal she could not recall of the day when everything had changed, but Rangvald's hissed words to his jarl remained sharp in her memory. Some old rivalry existed between them, which had led Rangvald to dark deeds she could not begin to understand, seeking his revenge. Witnessing such hatred, unleashed in violence, had shaken her to the core, but ‘twas not what most ate at her heart.

While his jarl had mentioned escaping the island, Rangvald had indicated no desire to leave. It would have brought her elation had it not been for what she'd heard afterward from his very lips.

He thought it better to rule here than be Eldberg's ‘dog' in Skálavík.

Was Rangvald no different, then, from Einar, Knud, and the other men who'd once commanded H?y? They who'd placed themselves above their wives and mothers, sisters and daughters? Who'd ultimately cast them aside, blaming them for all misfortune, before leaving them to fend alone?

If so, then Hedda had been right to warn against these strangers. Hedda had seen the danger.

All this time, he's sought only to win my allegiance, that I might aid him in his true cause—to make himself master of the island.

Yet I was so sure he felt tenderness for me.

Elin had cried enough over him and was adamant there would be no more tears.

You'll soon be well, and ‘twill be easier when you're busy again.

The day was a fine one, with the sun's warmth streaming through the open door. Somewhere not far off, the children were playing. She smiled at their excited voices, though ‘twas a bittersweet pleasure, thinking of how Ulrick had once played among them.

She'd just closed her eyes when a rap came upon the door. Unexpectedly, the red-haired giant, Eldberg, was upon the threshold. Elin had not seen him since…

The wound upon her chest throbbed as she fought to calm herself.

Has he come with news? Is Rangvald to be released?

She hated that it was the first thought in her mind.

Eldberg's expression was serious as he took the seat beside her bed. They stared at one another for some moments. With his elbows resting upon his knees, Eldberg was near bent double upon the short-legged stool.

"You're healing?" Eldberg nodded to where Elin had sustained her injury.

"Well enough." Elin diverted her gaze. The man was not to be trusted. She doubted he cared a whit for her; he was here with some other motive.

Eldberg lowered his voice. "We must talk."

His proximity was unwelcome, but the sooner he said his piece, the swifter he would leave.

"Go ahead." Elin pursed her lips. "If ‘tis regarding your plan of leaving, rest assured, I shall do naught to thwart you. Mend your ship and go. We shall be the better for it."

"You were listening, eh?" He stroked his beard. "I thought as much."

"And you're here to beg my help?" Elin darted him a look. "Mayhap I shall give it, but I won't coerce on your behalf. If you need arms for your oars, you must persuade the women yourself."

Eldberg's eyes narrowed. "And how do you advise I do that?"

Elin had already given the subject thought. The men's arrival had set events in motion that could not be undone, and from what she'd seen of Hedda and Eldberg together, she'd an inkling Hedda would take his part. Elin would not do Eldberg's dirty work for him, but Hedda might—making promises of reward to those who aided the men's departure.

"Make a pact with those willing and swear a vow before the gods that you'll keep your side." If there was any honor in him, he would not shrink from what she asked. "Offer recompense to those who take up oars for you and bring them back before the turn of the year. Once done, you agree never to journey this way again."

"And if they've no wish to return?" Eldberg's lips curled.

"Pledge to guard their welfare as you would your own kindred, and I shall be content." It was not as Elin would wish it, for such a course would leave the island in a precarious position, but she would not fight the tide.

At present, they numbered enough to band together, provisioning and sharing. With even a third of them departing, life would be harder. In likelihood, those most amenable would be the young and strong and those with children, whose future could only be brighter elsewhere.

With them gone, the island's fate would be sealed. Any hope of these shipwrecked men providing them with a new generation was lost. ‘Twas plain, Frida and Hedda were already committed to their menfolk and would likely follow them across the sea. Perhaps Signy, Grethe, and Astrid as well.

Only she would remain of the six brides Bothild had chosen.

She and the older women struggling a little more each year, aging and dying but steadfast in clinging to the place they'd always called home.

There was a slim chance that some who rowed with the men would come back, but Elin held no great hope. Even then, ‘twould merely delay their community's inevitable demise.

If men from Skálavík returned with them to settle here, the future might unfold differently, but Elin could not imagine it. What could the island offer compared to that fine place? Rangvald had told her much of how the trading town drew visitors from far and wide.

In any case, she could not bring herself to wish for such an outcome. To live out her years in solitude with the other women was preferable to an unknown fate among men who only wished to take charge.

"I pledge as you say." Eldberg sat back upon the stool with folded arms. "You do your part, when the time comes, to make these women see sense, and I'll ensure they meet no harm."

"I ask one more thing," Elin added quickly, her pulse thumping strong. "Rangvald! He goes, too." Her chest suffered an aching pang, but it had to be. She could not allow him to remain, for he'd betrayed her trust. She would not be able to forget.

Not that he'll wish to stay. What will there be to tempt him when the youthful among us are departed?

"That cur!" Eldberg scowled. "He deserves naught. The man can barely lift an oar in any case. I'd gladly declare his misdeeds and make an example of him would it not rock the boat for us all. Bothild sees it, too. ‘Tis why he remains hidden as he is, and the story put about that you're suffering a bout of ague."

Elin let out a long breath. Rangvald was safe then.

"Nevertheless, I ask it!" She needed to be firm. "He leaves with you, and…" Did she dare push for more? Rangvald warranted his jarl's wrath, but she couldn't bear to think of him suffering, or worse… "When you are back among your own people, will you speak together? Find a way to reconcile?"

‘Twas obvious her request was contrary to Eldberg's wishes.

He spoke through a jaw clenched tight. "I promise nothing, but if he prostrates himself, pleading for my forgiveness, I may let him live."

He'll never beg.

Turning her head away, she bid Eldberg leave.

Only when Eldberg had gone did Bothild slip back to Elin's side.

She was aged in years, but her ears could still hear the squeak of a mouse in the thatch. None of what she'd overheard surprised her.

As Elin slept, she began making plans of her own.