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Chapter 24

Return to Chateaufort

Ylva stood in the stillness of her dark chamber, staring out the window and watching moonlight dance on the waves of the Narrow Sea. She knew Sk?rde was wounded, for she’d felt the searing, burning slice of the Raven Warrior’s blade in her own right thigh.

Hours ago.

Sk?rde would be returning to the castle, but she didn’t know when. There was no way of knowing how many men had survived the battle and were fit enough to row. Nor how many drakkar ships remained of the six Sk?rde had taken. The westerly winds which had favored them heading toward Fécamp into battle would hinder them on the return to Chateaufort . It could be minutes… hours…or, gods forbid—days before she spotted the familiar red and white striped sails and the dragon prows arriving back in port.

She sighed in frustration and anguish as she gazed at the opaline ocean.

úlvhild and Maeve were here in the castle, having stayed to help treat the wounded warriors upon their return. Ylva had settled them into the empty chamber that Richard and Gunnor had occupied during the wedding celebration. The two priestesses now slept in the room down the hall with Norhild to attend them. Gyda slumbered in her private chamber with Dagny and Bellerose, Bj?rn’s wife, who was with child. As First Knight of Chateaufort charged with defending the entire castle, he’d wanted his young wife here in the fortress with him.

As she gazed at the sea from the clifftop castle, desperately hoping to see the ships bringing Sk?rde home, Ylva decided to prepare his room and gather the supplies she would need to heal him.

In the antechamber that connected their two bedrooms—where Gyda, Norhild, Dagny, and Eydis had bathed her for the wedding, which now seemed so long ago—Ylva selected three gemstones from her collection which she would imbue with galdr magic.

Emerald, the deep green color of Sk?rde’s heraldry and healing herbs of the forest.

Turquoise, for the waters of Divona’s sacred springs whose essence Ylva would wield to cure him.

And clear quartz, to purify his wounded body through connection to the spiritual realms.

She brought the three gems and a burning candle into Sk?rde’s adjacent chamber and placed them on the table near his bed. Returning to her antechamber where she stored her healing herbs, she chose a trio of tinctures that she would use to cure him. Sage—to purify his blood. Yarrow, to staunch bleeding. And thyme, to prevent the wound from festering. Ylva carried the herbal potions into Sk?rde’s bedroom and placed the small ceramic vials alongside the three gems.

From the flame of the candle, Ylva lit a cone of myrrh incense to purify the air and summon protective spirits. As the sweet spicy smoke wafted into the room, she softly chanted an incantation, imbuing the three gems with galdr healing magic. She laid them on the table next to the silver incense burner. When she returned from her mission, she would position them on the floor around Sk?rde’s bed.

Ylva fetched a woolen sack from the coffer on the floor of her bedchamber. She collected three large silver flasks engraved with Nordic runes and placed them in the sack, along with the stoppers to seal them, made from wood of the sacred yew tree.

Although Eydis and Norhild had wanted to undress her earlier and help her into bed, Ylva had refused, knowing she would be unable to sleep. Now, still clad in her long gown, she draped a cloak around her shoulders, grasped the woolen sack, and slipped out into the dimly lit hall where Kallez and Gérard stood guard.

“My lady, what is wrong? Why are you wearing your cloak?” Brows furrowing in concern as he frantically scanned her face, Kallez sprang to attention, instantly alert.

“I must go to the waterfall cave. Bring a torch and light my way.” Ylva’s commanding tone was that of a countess.

Doubt and disbelief warred with duty in Kallez’ dark eyes. Recognizing the seriousness of her intent, he bowed his head respectfully and retrieved a pine torch from the metal sconce on the wall. With Gérard following at the rear, Kallez guided Ylva along the dark corridor, down the stone stairs, and out into the moonlit night.

Two of the knights guarding the double castle exit doors joined their procession as they crossed the meadow, descended the grassy path, and arrived at the bottom of the cliff.

“Come with me into the cave,” she said to Kallez and Gérard. “I wish to bring the statue of the goddess and the offerings at her feet back to Lord Sk?rde’s room. I plan to create a sacred shrine for his healing.” Ylva led the two guards into the waterfall cave where the wooden statue stood upon the stone shelf. She removed the three silver vials and handed the empty woolen sack to Kallez. “Wrap her in this. Treat her with the reverence due a goddess.”

Ylva unfastened a leather pouch from the belt at her waist and handed the drawstring bag to Gérard. “Place the gems, coins, shells, and wildflowers in this bag. Be careful the shells do not break.” She eyed the coronet on the statue’s head and the emerald ring that she had sacrificed as a prayer offering. The enchanted gem glittered like a star in the torchlight. “Be sure to bring the crown and the ring.”

While her personal guards collected the wooden sculpture and precious items from the shrine, Ylva motioned for the two castle knights to follow her to the waterfall pool.

The cascade thundered from the top of the white chalk cliff, splashing into the smooth stone basin before her booted feet. Ylva bent over the bubbly pool, filling the three silver flasks with the healing waters of Divona’s sacred spring. She capped each container with a yew stopper, wiped the vessels reverently with her hand, and gave a large vial to each guard, retaining the third in her grasp. “Please carry these back to the castle and bring them up to Lord Sk?rde’s room.”

Cradling the leather pouch of offerings against his chest and holding the pine torch in his other hand, Gérard exited the cave with Kallez, who carried the woolen sack with the statue of Divona carefully wrapped inside.

Ylva and the two guards with the large silver flasks joined them, following Gérard’s glowing torch back up the path under the light of the luminous full moon.

When they arrived at the castle, she told them to follow her upstairs to Sk?rde’s room, where she placed the three silver flasks on the tabletop with the burning incense and the three enchanted stones. She had Gérard lay the leather bag of offerings on the bed and took the woolen bag with the statue from Kallez. “Thank you all. Please return quietly to your posts.”

When the men left the room, Ylva unwrapped the yew sculpture from the woolen bag and positioned the statue on the bedside table where she would create the healing shrine. Retrieving the silver coronet from the sack, she placed it on the statue’s head, positioning the nine turquoise gems, three silver coins inscribed with Nordic runes, scallop shells, and wildflowers upon the altar at the goddess’ feet. As she lay the emerald ring before the statue, Ylva unsheathed the sharp knife from her waist, pricked her fingertip, and placed a droplet of blood in each of the three runes on the three silver coins. Deeply inhaling the spicy scent of myrrh, she whispered a fervent prayer to the Celtic Goddess of the Sacred Springs. “Dear Divona, please accept this offering of my blood and grant my request. May I wield the curative essence of your sacred springs through my Ljósálfar gift of nen glir .”

Throughout the long, lonely night, Ylva kept a prayerful vigil at the moonlit window. Finally, as the first slanted rays of the rising sun stretched across the Narrow Sea, she heard the sentinels shout and the creak of the winch raising the chain boom at the entrance to the sheltered harbor below the castle. When she spotted the striped sails of six drakkar ships returning to port, she rushed out of her room and into the hall.

Gyda, úlvhild, Maeve, Bellerose, and the servants emerged from their respective rooms. Ylva joined them in the corridor and dashed down the stairs.

“I will want to bathe my husband. Send servants to fetch water from the sacred spring near the castle. The pool where you bathed Sk?rde the day of the wedding.” Ylva spoke to Jofroi, Sk?rde’s personal chamberlain, in the foyer outside the Great Hall. “Have them bring the tub to my antechamber. And heat the water over the hearth to fill it.”

Jofroi sent scullery maids scurrying to comply and hastened to the servants’ quarters to find valets to fetch the tub.

With Gyda at her side, Ylva summoned Petroc, seneschal of the castle. “We must prepare to receive the wounded. Set up pallets along the walls in the Great Hall. We’ll establish a healing area to treat the injured.” As he disappeared into the vast hall, Ylva spoke to Norhild, Eydis, and Dagny. “Fetch blankets, needles and thread. plenty of linen for bandages. Wine, ale, mead, and cups. Sharp knives, soap… and buckets of water from the well.” With a brief but respectful curtsey, the three servants dashed off to obey.

Ingulf the steward dispatched grooms to gather wood and stoke the fire. He supervised kitchen servants in removing tables and benches from the Great Hall, to accommodate the temporary bedding for the wounded. They rearranged the furniture along the walls of the foyer, for meals to be served outside the hall.

“Maeve and I are going to run down to my cottage and gather herbs, ointments, and potions. I’ll ask Gillie and a few of the women in the village to come to the castle and help as healers. And I’ll have Mathilde—the blacksmith’s daughter—keep an eye on Kól. We’ll be back as quickly as we can.” úlvhild and Maeve each kissed Gyda and Ylva on the cheek. The two priestesses wove through the bustling throng in the crowded foyer and exited the front castle doors.

Ylva and Gyda raced to the riverbank, where knights and stable hands removed bloodied, battered bodies from the docked dragon ships, transporting wounded warriors to the castle. Injured knights, supported under the shoulders, struggled to walk with assistance up the hill. At the sight of Gunni, Viggo, and two knights lugging a blood-soaked, senseless Sk?rde on a wooden litter, her heart dropped, her breathing stopped, and she froze, transfixed to the spot.

His eyes were fused shut, his pallid skin sunken and ashen. Sk?rde’s normally thick and glorious blond hair was slick with sweat and plastered to his head. When her worried gaze reached the atrocious injury on his right leg, Ylva nearly swooned at the repulsive sight.

Jagged black streaks radiated from a horrific red gash, visibly exposed under the slashed chausses and thick padding covering his muscular thigh. A noxious yellow discharge oozed from the mottled, dark purple flesh. Even from the distance where she now stood a few feet away, the revolting odor of death poured from the rotting wound.

Grabbing Gyda’s trembling hand, Ylva addressed Gunni, Viggo, and the two knights who bore Sk?rde’s litter. “Bring him up to my antechamber.” Preceding the four men into the castle, she and Gyda cleared the way across the foyer and led them upstairs. They entered her bedroom and crossed the antechamber which connected her room to Sk?rde’s. Servants were heating the bathwater over the hearth, and the wooden tub was close to the crackling fire.

Gunni and the men laid the heavy wooden litter on the floor.

“Strip off his armor. I’ll need your help getting him in and out of the tub.” As the servants filled the tub, Ylva carefully unfastened the latches along the inner leg of Sk?rde’s chain mail leggings, removing the chausses and the padding underneath. When she was finished, Gunni and Viggo removed his hauberk tunic and linen gambeson.

Once Sk?rde was naked, the four men helped him into the tub and Ylva thoroughly washed his hair and body with water from the sacred spring and herbal soap she’d made with calendula, chamomile, and comfrey.

When the warriors lifted her clean husband from the tub, Ylva quickly dried him and instructed the men to carry Sk?rde into the adjoining room. “Please, lay him on the bed.” She directed the servants to remove the tub, dismissing them to return to aid the wounded in the Great Hall. She hoped úlvhild and Maeve had returned from the village with herbs, ointments, and additional women to help tend the wounded.

Gyda, standing beside Sk?rde’s bed, whispered a prayer and bent to kiss her grandson’s head. Tears brimmed in her large, expressive eyes as she looked up and held Ylva’s gaze. “You’re a guérisseuse celtique. A Celtic healer who also wields Nordic galdr magic. And you have the Ljósálfar gift of nen glir. ” She grasped Ylva’s hands and squeezed them tight. “I will leave you alone now. And keep others away as well. So that you can pour everything you have—your love, your skills, your magic—into healing him. I’ll post guards at the door, so you can send word if you need anything. A servant will deliver your meals and leave them on the table in your room. Remember to take care of yourself and eat when you can. May the blessings of all the gods guide you.” She wrapped Ylva in her frail arms, rocking her back and forth and kissing her long hair. Gyda smiled gratefully at the four warriors standing near the foot of the bed. “Thank you for bringing Sk?rde safely home. Please, come with me down to the Great Hall. There are many others who need us.”

Gunni ducked his chin. “May the gods bless you. Please heal him, Lady Ylva.”

Viggo, Mahi, and Knút bowed before Ylva, murmuring their Nordic blessings. With Gunni, they each lifted a corner of the wooden litter and, heads humbly lowered, followed Gyda out the chamber door.

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