Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

While Viggo dozed, Signy first stoked the firepit, then revisited the table to prepare the rabbit. Hanging the smaller of her cooking cauldrons, she scattered the chunks of meat inside, alongside several handfuls of vegetables, filling the vessel just over halfway with water.

It would be some hours until the stew was ready, but she was ravenous right now. Breaking off a hunk of manchet bread, she spread it with soft goat’s cheese rolled in seeds and drizzled honey on top, savoring the sour with the sweet. From her pantry shelves, she lifted down a stoppered jug and poured some of the contents into a cup, swigging a good mouthful of the bittersweet liquid.

The mead was made by Grethe, gifted to Signy and her mother in return for their supply of honey for the making of the brew. Signy rarely partook of the drink unless there was a celebration, for she liked to keep a clear head. However, she was a woman now, with her own lover. Wasn’t that worth celebrating? And, in time, there would be a child.

Viggo lay on his side, the furs covering his lower body, his hair tousled in sleep. Her heart gave a small tug. ‘Twas hard to believe he was anything but a man confident in his strength and influence, for he was not only handsome but broad of chest and well-muscled. Surely, he would wake some morning and find this strange ailment of blindness gone, and these times of wretchedness would be forgotten when he’d believed himself naught but a burden.

Everything would change. There would be no more talk of it being better for him to die. He would see the warmth in her eyes when she looked into his and would know how she cared for him.

Perhaps, by then, he would come to love her. She might petition Bothild for the right to keep Viggo for herself, for him to become a true husband.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Or he’ll wake and see how many beautiful women we have on the island—so many of them more experienced in the ways of lovemaking.

Why would he choose to stay with me when he might have any of them or all? There are those who’d want his seed, but even women too old for childbearing might make a case for taking him to their bed. For why should they be deprived of this pleasure when a man can rouse himself so easily? If he no longer lacks his sight, he may see that task as one to relish rather than thinking himself useless for anything but procreation.

Why would he want to stay with me when he surveys the full imperfection of my body?

This last notion hurt the most.

The ugliness of her skin, from her shoulders down to the cleft of her bottom, could not be denied. If he ever beheld the extent of her scars, he wouldn’t be able to hide his repugnance, and it would be more than she could bear.

Don’t think of it! There is only this time, nothing more…

Making a plate for Viggo and pouring a little more of the mead, she laid it beside the bed for when he might awake and slipped beneath the furs beside him.

Facing his body, she rested her hands upon his torso and hooked one leg between his. Viggo’s phallus was soft now, but she liked the feel of it, nonetheless, curled against her belly, and that of his chest hair, brushing her cheek. Like this, lying in his arms, she felt as if nothing in the world might hurt her.

And loved?

That was going too far, of course.

As for feeling safe, there was nothing she needed real protection from.

Not anymore.

“Signy.” He pulled her to him. They remained thus for some moments, with Viggo gently stroking her lower back.

Signy held still, making herself accept his caress. It took all her control to avoid flinching from him.

“These no longer pain you? They’re healed?” he murmured somewhere above the crown of her head.

Signy bit her lip, unsure of how much she was ready to tell him.

“They’re nothing, really.” Taking his hand, she eased it downward to rest upon the curve of her hip. “I displeased my father, and he lost his temper. That’s all.”

Viggo was silent a moment. When he spoke again, there was an edge of anger to his voice.

“He beat you? With what and for what reason?”

“I did nothing so terrible!” It occurred to her that Viggo might take a poor view of her going against her father’s wishes. She hated the thought of him approving of her punishment, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to side with her father in such a matter.

“There is naught that would warrant such an action. No man should harm a woman, no matter how she vexes him. His duty is to protect those in his care.” Viggo’s hand skimmed her arm, coming to rest beneath her chin. Gently, he raised her head from where she’d buried it against his chest. “Do not fear to tell me. If you keep this secret, there will be awkwardness between us. Neither of us would wish that.”

Secrets!

There are more than he knows!

Some things she couldn’t bring herself to share. Not yet. Besides which, though Bothild hadn’t expressly told them to avoid speaking of the past, Signy sensed it was expected. The Great Happening was a painful time, and how could she make him understand? She didn’t truly comprehend it herself.

To reveal what she knew would only cause alarm, and who could predict how these strangers among them might react. Viggo’s loyalty would rightly be to his own kind rather than to herself and the other women.

To tell him of her own small shame in the days prior to what had occurred was the lesser of two evils. Hearing it would appease him, she supposed—at least, for the present.

“‘Twas a belt.” She endeavored to keep her voice steady. “My mother made him stop… eventually .”

Viggo swore beneath his breath.

“As to what angered him, ‘twas my refusal to accept the match he was pursuing for me.” Speaking of this was proving harder than Signy had anticipated. “Our own jarl asked for my hand, though he was older even than my father.”

“‘Tis not so unusual, and surely, you desired the status that would come with such a marriage?” Viggo paused, clearly waiting for her to explain further.

Signy shook her head vehemently. “I wanted none of it. Even had I been able to overcome my distaste, he was wedded already to Hedda. I couldn’t be part of that—him casting her off to be with me. My father was oft-times cruel, but I feared the jarl would be worse. What sort of man could do that to his wife of long-standing? To throw her away as if she meant nothing?”

“You didn’t deserve…” There was a tightness to Viggo’s voice. “Did he hurt you in any other ways?”

“My father?” Signy wasn’t quite sure what he meant. “I learnt early to be obedient. In truth, my brother and mother suffered more of his violence than I. The night he did this…” She paused. “The first blow was by his hand to my left side. I remember falling, and a ringing sound. My head spun, and I felt sick with faintness. I was barely in my senses when he unleashed his belt upon me.”

Viggo made a low growling sound.

“Since then, I’ve not been able to hear well on that side, but I’m quite used to it now.” Signy attempted to bring a little brightness to her voice.

“‘Tis inexcusable!” Viggo hissed. “If he were here, I’d…”

“But he’s not,” Signy jumped in. “That time is past. Even with my mother, I never speak of it.”

“Hmmm.” Viggo frowned. “I would have some choice words for this mother of yours, letting her husband treat you so.”

Signy swallowed down her true feelings on that score. So many nights, lying awake in the dark, she’d revisited that terrible night and wondered at her mother not having intervened sooner. Of course, it hadn’t been easy for her; too often, she’d borne evidence of Knud’s temper herself.

However, her mother’s urging to make sure she was fit for some man to take her, once her father’s beating was done, rang relentlessly in her ears.

Perhaps her mother had said what she thought would be most effective to make her father stop, but Signy feared there was another side to the way her mother had pleaded. Always, she’d felt that Sven, her brother, was the one who mattered, while Signy was only relevant for the benefits a marriage would bring.

Even now, she sensed it with the way her mother viewed Viggo. If she had her way, he’d be gone, replaced by another of the shipwrecked men—one her mother thought of as a better prospect.

“And this jarl who sought your hand… what of him?” Viggo urged. “Has he respected your wishes and let you be?”

Signy answered hastily. “There’s naught to worry over there. He’s no longer a bother to me.”

Because none of us have laid eyes on him, nor the others who fled with him, these two summers past.

She disliked telling untruths, but what choice did she have?

Viggo was quiet for some moments, stroking her hair tenderly.

“Nonetheless, it makes little sense that you haven’t accepted another man’s suit. Your mother must desire it, and you should, too. Having a child by me, like this, is a strange way to go about things.”

Signy hoped the gods didn’t strike her down. She was doing her best to avoid outright lies.

“I’m capable of raising a child, I should hope, and there are others to help me—mother and cousin Grethe… ‘Twill be easier, in a way, to rely only upon myself, without the complication of?—”

“A man in the house?” Viggo cut her off. “Don’t trouble yourself over offending me. A poor excuse for a man I am, and no doubt you prefer it, having endured your father’s sorry example.”

“Don’t say such things!” Signy answered vehemently. “Perhaps, eventually, I would have found a man to call husband. Perhaps, I yet will…”

“Whatever you decide, I wish you well.” Viggo pressed his lips to her forehead. “You shall be a good mother.”

A lump came to Signy’s throat. The idea was still new, for she’d reconciled herself to never bearing children. “I can’t help but worry over the many ways in which a child can come to harm… Do you think it’s possible for us to live without hurting one another?”

“Children must learn, even when it’s painful, their way in the world.” Viggo’s reply sounded weary. “As for hurting each other, it’s inevitable, regardless of our intentions.”

Beneath her hand, Signy felt the beating of Viggo’s heart. “Someone hurt you?” It wasn’t really a question.

“I was seven when I entered the mines of Skálavík alongside my brothers. ‘Twas like a game, at first, in which we were given tasks to perform. I didn’t mind, even, how dark it was underground. We’d invent stories to make it seem more exciting—that we were helping the men dig for trolls’ treasure, dragging out our carts of rubble. After a time, we tired of it, naturally, telling our father that we were ready to go back to our farm. ’Twas only then he let us know that there was no homestead to return to. He’d lost it in gambling to Jarl Beornwold himself—the value of the farm and much more. Our servitude in the mines was to pay the debt.”

“Oh, Viggo!” Signy pressed herself closer, unsure of what to say in the face of such a story.

“It could have been much worse.” Viggo spoke in a measured tone. “The crew we joined was not unkindly, and my brothers and I were independent of spirit. Our mother having died not long after the bearing of me, my father had the raising of us, and we grew knowing how to make ourselves useful.”

“But to lose all you’d known! To be forced into such a life!” Signy fought back tears on his behalf.

“Children are adaptable. ‘Twas far later, when I was old enough to understand such things, that I developed a bitterness for what had befallen us and the actions of my father.”

“They’re waiting for you back in Skálavík? Your father and brothers?” Signy prompted.

The hand upon her hip tightened. “‘Tis just me now.”

Signy sensed his reticence in having her delve deeper in regard to his family, but she couldn’t resist pushing a little more, wanting to learn of his former life.

“How came you to be here? Upon the ship, I mean?”

Viggo let go a long breath. “Much time has passed. When Eldberg took the jarlship, he pardoned many debts, including that of my father. I was released from bonded thralldom and given a wage for my labors.”

“He’s a good man, this Eldberg?”

Viggo made a scoffing sound. “He’s canny enough to know how to bring men to his side, and he rewards loyalty. He thinks to claim mine by this gesture and the promise of something more.”

Signy kept silent, giving him space in which to speak. In all these days together, he’d never revealed so much, and she feared to interrupt him now.

“Eldberg gave me his oath that the old homestead would be returned to me. ‘Tis a ramshackle place now and the land much encroached upon. The price was my strength upon the oars, and my portion of whatever bounty was claimed upon this trip, as well as a quarter share of all produce from the farm, once I’ve…” He broke off suddenly.

“Viggo, what is it?” Signy asked anxiously.

“All is lost!” He pushed the heel of his hand to his eyes. “There shall be no farm. No return to Skálavík… at least, never for me, though I’ve little doubt our jarl is scheming already, thinking of what to take with him.”

“Wh-What do you mean?” There were but six of the strangers and at least one with serious injuries. They had no ship—merely the wreckage of a hull. Besides which, given time to adjust, why would they want to leave? Were they not well looked after?

She overlooked, of course, what awaited them back in Skálavík.

Viggo appeared to have no family, but that could not be true for the others. All must have someone beloved who looked for their return. They would have homes and responsibilities and a hundred other claims upon their allegiance. To think they’d be content to remain upon the island was a child’s notion!

Yet, she did not see how they might leave, however strong their desire.

A knot formed in her stomach. Whether ‘twas possible or not, the worst of it was knowing how badly Viggo wished to leave the island.

To leave me!

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Of course, he’d rather leave. His true home is elsewhere.

“‘Tis all for naught! For what place is there for one such as me? What purpose, even if I were to be granted passage!” Viggo’s voice was rough with emotion.

“I don’t understand.” Signy’s head had begun to ache. “If your jarl finds a way, why would he not take you? You’re his, as the others are.”

“Pftah!” Viggo gave a hollow laugh. “Useless as I am!”

“Do not speak so.” Signy thumped his chest. “You’re alive and strong, and I’m glad you’re here. Is not being with me purpose enough, at least for now?”

“Nothing is what it was! Can I live like this, cursed to more darkness than I ever knew in the mine? There is no escape from it, and I fear… I cannot…” His voice cracked at last.

Signy threw her arm about him, holding him close. She longed to tell him that she yearned for him to stay, wished she could say how much she’d come to need his touch, but in the end, the revelations were not forthcoming.

“Let me care for you, and trust in the gods. They haven’t abandoned you, and neither shall I.”