Daughter of Fire and Ice (22 page)

‘What are we going to do, Thora?’ asked Asgerd with desperation in her voice. I realized she was looking to me to take a decision. To find a solution. I remembered Thrang’s words to me on the Faeroe Islands. ‘Starvation isn’t pretty,’ he’d said. And now, thanks to Ragna’s poor housekeeping, we were staring it in the face.

‘How can we have eaten so much already?’ whispered Asgerd, shaking her head.

‘We’ve been a lot of people,’ I said hesitantly, trying to work it out myself. ‘Perhaps the stores were not chosen carefully enough … ’

‘Why didn’t Ragna tell us?’ wailed Asgerd. ‘We could have rationed the food long ago.’

‘What did she say just now?’ I asked her. ‘How do you come to have the keys?’

‘She handed them to me. Said she didn’t have time to run the household and nurse Bjorn. Now she’s shut herself in her room.’

‘Leaving the problem to us. Well, better now than later. I’ll speak to Thrang. He’s a practical man.’

Asgerd nodded. I felt as though we were standing on a cliff, slowly being dragged towards the edge. What else could go wrong?

Thrang walked through the snow to Helgi’s house. He brought back the news that everyone there had escaped the sickness so far. Helgi sent some supplies back with him. Not enough, but it was a help.

‘Helgi sends thanks for your hospitality,’ Thrang told me, snow melting in his hair and beard so that it dripped onto the earth floor. ‘And he hopes these gifts will be acceptable.’

‘It still won’t be enough,’ I told him anxiously.

‘I’ll fish,’ Thrang told me. ‘I’ve agreed with Helgi that as soon as this strong wind lets up a little, we’ll take some men out. I don’t want you to worry, Thora. You have enough to think about.’ His voice was kind. ‘I’ll look after you,’ he added, patting me clumsily on the shoulder before turning away to hide his embarrassment at this display of concern.

That burden lifted a little. But I was still full of anxiety about Bjorn. If only I could ask Thrang to resolve that problem for me too. Even though I suspected his solution might be to hurl Ragna out in the snow.

‘Please, just let me see him,’ I begged Ragna when she emerged to take some food at nightmeal.

‘Never,’ she hissed at me, her eyes wild. Then she clutched her cloak closer about her and shivered. ‘Don’t think you can use your skills to take my husband away from me. It’s me he needs. Me he wants. And I have skills enough to care for him myself.’

‘But no medicines,’ I said. ‘Won’t you at least take what you need from my stores?’

Ragna put down her bowl of barley porridge almost untouched and shivered again.

‘Are you well?’ I asked her, suddenly suspicious.

‘I’m fine,’ snapped Ragna. ‘I don’t need any of your poisons.’ She dragged herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the table, and began limping towards her room. I watched her, suddenly certain that she was about to take the illness herself.

‘Ragna,’ I called, getting up to follow her, ‘are you sure … ’

I was too late. Halfway to her room, Ragna fainted, collapsing in a heap on the floor. I rushed to her side and could feel the beginnings of the fever burning in her skin. She was stirring almost at once, fighting to be conscious.

‘Take her to … ’ I began to order Grim, who stood ready to lift her.

‘No,’ begged Ragna, clutching my hand. Her eyes pleaded with me. ‘Not there. I want to be with Bjorn.’

As I stared down at her suddenly vulnerable face, I felt the first stirrings of real pity.

‘Please,’ she begged.

‘Very well,’ I agreed. I led the way into Ragna’s room, where Grim laid Ragna down across the room from Bjorn. That way she could see him, but not disturb him.

Then, and only then, did I turn my attention to Bjorn, who lay wrapped in furs, his fever dangerously high. I felt a lurch of fear at the sight of him. Had he gone beyond my help? Bjorn stared up at me as I approached him, but it was clear he didn’t recognize me with those red, glazed eyes. He looked clean and cared for, but he needed to be cooled. I began to strip his covers away, calling urgently for water.

‘The fever needs to be nurtured,’ objected Ragna feebly.

‘No,’ I answered curtly. ‘Not after all these days. That’s not how I work.’

I bathed Bjorn’s face, neck, chest, and arms and trickled willow bark tea into his mouth. He groaned a little, and tried to swallow. And when Ragna, her own fever mounting, drifted into an uneasy sleep, I allowed myself to stroke his hair back from his face. He barely stirred, and cold dread seized me. Bringing his fever down should have made him more alert, more aware, but there was little change. I chafed his hands and spoke to him in a low voice, but he didn’t respond.

Ragna was shivering convulsively as her own fever mounted. I laid extra furs on her, helping her to draw the heat she needed. Her icy hand clutched mine again.

‘You’ll care for me, won’t you, Thora?’ she muttered fretfully. ‘You’ll be kind. You won’t hurt me?’ Her voice shook with delirium.

‘Of course I’ll look after you,’ I told her reassuringly.

Ragna soon lost all sense of where she was as her fever rose. I went from the one to the other, talking to them, soothing and encouraging them. My weariness was forgotten in my longing to see Bjorn improve. I cast the runes for him and prayed at length to Eir. I wiped his brow tenderly, calling softly to him to live.

Gradually, I could feel the fever leaving him. He lay quite still, breathing deeply. I prayed this was a healing sleep, not the prelude to death. I laid my hands on his shoulders and called on Eir to spare him, to give me the strength to cure him. His aura was faint, but as I prayed, it grew stronger, shimmering with the passing of his dreams. I allowed myself to hope.

Ragna, at an earlier stage of the sickness, was restless all night. I tended her when I needed to, always returning to Bjorn, looking for some sign of change. I prayed to Freya to give me a glimpse of the future, but she didn’t oblige me.

It was two long, agonizing days before Bjorn opened his eyes.

‘Bjorn?’ I whispered eagerly. ‘Do you know me?’

‘Thora?’ he croaked, and then coughed. I lifted him carefully to help him drink a little water. His skin was cool, quite free of fever. My relief was intense, bringing tears of gratitude to my eyes.

‘How do you feel?’ I whispered shakily.

‘My head … hurts. I’ve had such dreams. I dreamed you wouldn’t nurse me. I kept calling for you, but you didn’t come.’

‘Hush,’ I said quietly, laying a finger on his lips. ‘I’m here. You’ve been very ill. But you’re going to get better.’

‘Hold my hand,’ he whispered. ‘So I know you’re close by.’

I glanced at Ragna, to make sure she was too unwell to be watching. I took Bjorn’s hand and held it in both mine while he slowly fell asleep again.

In a few days he was mending and Ragna, too, was over the worst. She had not taken the illness as badly as Bjorn. I went to take a little food at breakfast, sure that I should be hungry with the long watching. For some reason, the morning porridge tasted sour and unappetizing. I gave my portion to Ulf and got up to check on my other patients who were almost recovered now. To my surprise I found the floor wasn’t quite steady. It felt like the first days aboard the ship. I shivered and sat down again.

‘Thora, are you all right?’ asked Asdis, staring at me.

I wanted to tell her I’d taken the fever after all, but my voice wouldn’t work any more. From a long way away, I heard Asdis calling someone and then Thrang was beside me, catching me before I could fall. He laid me down in a pile of furs. I tried to get up again, but I was so very, very tired. My throat hurt and it was so cold. The house faded around me, reappearing in confused snatches. And in my dreams, I kept seeing Bjorn, walking away from me, hand in hand with Ragna.

Yule

ýlir

It was Yule before I was up and about. My illness had lasted many days. I was the last to take the fever and the last to recover. I sat quietly by the fire, watching Ragna and Asgerd take turns at the loom, while Ulf and Asdis pounded grain. Everyone else came and went. We were a reduced household now. All Helgi’s people had gone and we’d lost two. It was also a more peaceful household. Ragna seemed to have been softened by her illness and was being milder to everyone, even to me.

On the eve of Yule, there was a pounding on the door. Bjorn went to open it. A flurry of wind blew in making the fire flicker and smoke. A giant of a man entered with a huge barrel under each arm.

‘Olvir!’ cried Bjorn, welcoming this unexpected guest. He was completely dwarfed by the visitor.

There was a yell of excitement from the other end of the longhouse. Ulf had been helping muck out the animals, but when he realized his father had come, he ran the length of the hall, all dirty as he was, and flung his arms around his father’s legs. Olvir laughed, put down his barrels and picked up his son instead, tossing him into the air. Ulf shouted for joy. I smiled, pleased to see him so happy.

We had a Yule feast after all. Olvir’s barrels contained salted fish and he sent men down to fetch a fresh catch from his boat as well.

‘You braved the crossing in the dark?’ asked Bjorn.

‘It’s not so dark,’ grinned Olvir. ‘There’s moonlight and the last fall of snow is still lying.’

After the long spell of sickness, all of us were delighted to feast on fish, and open the last of the ale. With full bellies, we all gathered around the fire for talk, poetry, and story telling. Bjorn told us stories properly for the first time. I listened spellbound to his tales of our gods, heroes, and kings. He also told several tales I’d never heard before of elves and fairies. Bjorn said he had learned them from a foreign traveller, but I guessed these were stories from before his captivity. He was a gifted entertainer.

Olvir amused us with tales of his fishing trips, of whales that swam beside his boat, and of mermaids he’d seen in the distance. Even Thrang was persuaded to speak briefly of his travels to distant lands.

The following morning, Olvir sought me out for advice.

‘I have a cut that won’t heal,’ he said, lifting the sleeve on his right arm to show me a long gash in the skin that had festered. It was angry, swollen, and hot to the touch. I asked him how he had done it, but he said he wasn’t sure and shifted uncomfortably at my questions. I guessed he’d been in one of his rages and hadn’t felt it at the time. I spread a salve on it.

‘This should help, but it will need several applications,’ I told him. ‘I’d like to keep an eye on it. Cuts like this can be very serious if they’re left. How long are you staying with us?’

‘I can stay a few days,’ he growled. It was obvious he wasn’t displeased to spend some time with his son and with plenty of company around him. I couldn’t imagine the loneliness he endured on the far side of the bay. For me, that would be no life at all.

One evening, five of us were invited to Helgi’s. Helgi turned up with a horse so that Ragna could ride, and Bjorn, Thrang, Olvir and I walked with them. To my surprise, Ragna made no objection to my accompanying them.

‘You can walk with Olvir, Thora,’ she said with a smile. ‘He doesn’t have company very often.’ Her face was calculating as she spoke, despite the smile, and there were colours in her aura I didn’t quite trust, but I agreed readily enough, seeing no harm in the plan.

The weather had turned surprisingly mild, and heavy rain had washed away all the snow from the low-lying land. It was a dark, wet walk and we all steamed as we sat down at Helgi’s fireside.

We were well fed and after nightmeal we were entertained with tales of their settlement in the west fjords. Helgi also gave us gifts as thanks for our hospitality through the autumn and winter. To Bjorn and Ragna, he presented the horse Ragna had ridden here. Both were quite overwhelmed by the generosity of our friends.

I was deeply touched when Helgi presented me with a silver necklace set with stones and a tiny, fluffy black kitten that had been born since their arrival here. We had no cat in our house and I held the tiny creature with delight, as it licked my fingers and miaowed.

‘These gifts express our heart-felt thanks for your services as a midwife and a healer,’ Helgi explained.

I felt my face flame.

‘But one of your people died,’ I said in a low voice. ‘I failed you.’

Bera looked sad. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Many more might have died without your nursing. You made yourself ill, caring for them. And look, Ingvar is well. He’s a treasure.’

She smiled fondly down at the baby in her arms as she spoke. He had grown and thrived since I saw him last, but still had a look of fragility about him. I leaned over and gently touched his cheek. It was so soft.

‘May Freya bless you, Ingvar,’ I said.

We stayed overnight at Helgafell, as they had named their home, and walked back again the following morning. It felt strange to think in terms of day and night, morning and evening in this perpetual dark. The rain had gone, the stars were bright and the temperature had dropped again. There was a wind blowing that cut through everything. I shivered, despite my warm clothes, and was aware that my illness had weakened me. I’d had no visions since my fever first started and I felt everything less strongly. Even my distress at Bjorn’s marriage had faded to a dull ache.

I could make out Bjorn and Helgi in front of me, deep in conversation. Ahead of them, Olvir was leading Ragna’s horse and listening as she talked earnestly. I needed all my breath for walking, and kept pace beside Thrang in companionable silence, the little kitten in my arms.

I was exhausted when we reached home, but offered to check Olvir’s cut again. Handing the kitten to Astrid, I sat down beside the fire so that I could see properly. The cut was healing nicely now. The heat had gone out of the injury and the swelling had gone down.

‘This is good,’ I told him, summoning a smile, despite my tiredness. ‘It’s healed well. It’ll look after itself now.’