Loki's Daughters (24 page)

"He will be all right," said Egil as he led the horse to walk beside her.

"I suppose he is right," she said. "I was in the way."

"Aye, you were," the man replied pleasantly, as if the battle for their lives had not just taken place. "And he would take it to heart greatly if you were harmed. He should have killed Hrolgar when he had the chance. I would have. But then, he is not my uncle."

"Not yours? But you're brothers. I do not understand."

"Hrolgar is brother to Ronan's first father, who is dead."

"Gunnar is not his father?"
 
She wanted to stop, but forced herself to keep walking.

"He is now. His father was Gunnar's cousin. When Ronan's father died, Hrolgar took Ronan away from Wynne. Gunnar did not learn for a few years, for we were on the Green Isle, but when he did he went looking for them and forced Hrolgar to give him up. Hrolgar has never forgiven either of them for that. After that, Gunnar married Wynne and took Ronan as his son. So we are brothers."
 
He smiled. "I think that is what you wanted to know, isn't it?"

"Then it is true that your people take boy children from their mothers and raise them?"

"Hrolgar did. It was his right." The blond Viking winced lightly, as if he himself had felt the pain. "But it could hardly be called raising. Hrolgar is a plague. Everyone hates him. He forced Ronan to raid with his band, and he was ill-treated, beaten, ill-fed. I am glad my father went for him."

Egil paused to face her, his eyes entreating. "He is a good man, Arienh. Will you not give him a chance?"

Her fleeting glance caught the Viking's eye but guilt forced it away. Like Ronan, he had a kindness about him that entrapped her. She wanted to believe in it, but it was Egil's kindness that worried her most, for he would do what he thought was right. And that would mean he would take Liam, for Liam's good, because he needed a father, not a blind mother. That would destroy Birgit as surely as if they took her life. And if Arienh accepted Ronan, she would also be letting Egil in the door.

"Nay," she said. Yet to say it was like a stab to her heart.

"Aunt! Aunt!" shouted Liam as he ran down the path, far ahead of his mother. "I did it! I didn't fall off, and I rode all the way to the village, and I told them."

Catching the boy as he sped into her arms and hugging him tightly, she said, "Ah, Liam, you are my little hero today. You brought help in time to save us all."

"Only I didn't, Aunt. 'Cause Egil got there first. Did Ronan save you, Aunt?"

"Aye, he did. He was very brave. I did not think either of us would live. But we did because he was brave and you were brave, and Egil brought everyone to save us."

Egil slanted a glance at her, then swung Liam up onto the horse for the ride back into the village. Far up the path, Mildread stood with an arm around each of her girls, watching solemnly. Elli and Selma hovered close by with Birgit.

Unraveling.

***

Birgit stood near the slit window looking out at stars she could not see. "I can hear them singing."

Arienh leaned back on her pillow, propped against the stone wall. "They like to sing at night. They sing more when they’re drinking, I think."

"But it is beautiful. Listen."

Arienh was listening. She wasn't sure beautiful was the right word. The voices were deep, sometimes raucous, haunting, strangely lilting. A sound that told of their close bond with each other. A masculine sound unlike any she had heard before.

"You're worried about him," Birgit guessed.

"He must be in pain."

"They wouldn't be carrying on like this if he were truly hurt. But maybe you should go see."

She shook her head. Probably Birgit couldn't see the movement. "Nay."

"You were right not to let him die, Arienh. We were wrong."

"But if I had, perhaps we would not face this now."

"You could never have done it, anyway. And the others still would have come. They already meant to."
 
Birgit turned from the window to fix her pale eyes on Arienh. "I know how you feel about him, Arienh."

Arienh returned her focus to the embers of the banked fire. "I don't feel anything, Birgit."

"Aye, you do. He saved Liam today. And you, too."

"Mildread's girls, too. He meant to die for us."

"And you say you feel nothing?"

She chewed her lip. Of course she did. But she didn't want to admit it. "I'm grateful."

"More than that. What will you do tomorrow?"

Arienh pulled her brown blanket around her and sat on the bed's edge. "I don't know. He is right, we cannot survive without them. But somehow we not let them get too close."

With a sigh, Birgit left the window. She stirred the fire in the stone hearth with an absent sort of movement. "I think you fight a losing battle. They are going to find out, no matter what we do. They have earned much respect today."

"Aye."

"Arienh?" A curious knot of anxiety tinged Birgit's voice.

Arienh sat up, away from the pillow. "Aye?"

"Perhaps you should bow to the inevitable. Perhaps it would not be so bad. At least for Liam."

"It would not be good for him to lose you. I will not allow it."

"You must think about it. Think of everyone's needs."

"I will not sacrifice you. There must be another way."

Whatever that might be, she had no idea. Mildread, Selma, all of them, were beginning to look at the Vikings differently.

If only she could talk with Wynne.

Arienh watched as Birgit walked back to the window, alternately clasping and dropping her hands to her side. "What if he is badly hurt, Arienh? He saved my Liam, and you. I cannot stand not knowing."

"You could do nothing about it."

"Aye. But I did not say-someone must tell him I am grateful, Arienh. You must go."

Birgit was not saying what was on her mind, and Arienh could not divine it.

"Is there not some betony or lettuce you could take him?"

So that was it. Birgit felt guilty, in the same way Arienh had on that day that now seemed so long ago, when she had first wounded him.

"Aye, I still have some lettuce syrup made up. I will take it to him." She quickly tossed her cloak over her shoulders, took up the little jug of syrup, and left the cottage.

A full moon spread its silver over the path and danced on the ripples in the river. The night was bright and clear enough that even Birgit could have made her way with little help. Arienh passed the lone oak and crossed the stepping stones in the little stream that divided the upper village from the lower. The deep voices grew louder as she drew closer to the big cottage that had once belonged to Cousin Weylin, now claimed by the Viking. She hesitated, then pushed against the door.

The raucous voices suddenly grew louder. The smoky, warm air assaulted her eyes and nostrils. Words spoken in their guttural tongue brought a course of back-slapping guffaws that rippled through the crowd. Something else was said, and sudden silence reigned. Men turned and stared at her with horrified expressions.

Had she broken some law? Only men allowed, perhaps? But Wynne rose from the platform bed where she reclined with her husband, and speaking calmly to the men, walked to the door.

She took Arienh's arm and led her away from the cottage.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Wynne laughed. "Only caught them at their jokes. Now they are wondering if you understand enough of their language to know what they said."

"Really? What would make them feel so guilty?"

"They are making up stories about Loki's daughters."

Arienh recalled the one Ronan had mentioned, Hel. "Who are Loki's daughters?"

The small woman who was more Viking than Celt smiled, her every feature clear in the bright moonlight. "That's the secret they hope to keep. According to their legends, their god Loki has but one daughter, Hel, and she is a Northman's nightmare. But Loki is the god of mischief, so they have decided he must have had more daughters, and made them beautiful Celts, to bring them nothing but trouble."

"Perhaps they should have thought of that before coming here to take over Celtic land."
 
Then Arienh regretted her words, for Wynne was a kind woman and loved her sons.

Wynne laughed, a warm and happy sound, reminding her of her own mother, who had died with the babe born after Niall. Arienh had been little more than a young child herself, then.

"They would not be happy if they knew I told you," said Wynne. "But it is very funny."

The twinkle in the woman's eyes was compelling. "What?"

"Ronan's story. It's about men coming to the Island of Loki's Daughters. The men are enchanted, and the women lure them into their beds."

"In their dreams."

"Aye, that, too. But then the men discover to their dismay that they are the ones who become pregnant."

Caught off guard, Arienh spewed out her laughter, and Wynne laughed with her.

"Surely a man did not make up that tale," she sputtered out, still laughing.

"But he did. You see why they don't want you to know it."

She answered with a smile and a nod. The woman was more Celt than Arienh had thought, and had clearly been deprived of women too long. "I have not seen you often," Arienh said.

"I do not get about much, for my husband is not well. But I am glad to see you."

 
"I have brought something for your son, if he is in pain."

"I think Ronan is all right. He does not complain. But then, they are drinking."

"They drink often."

"Aye. They do not have women to keep them busy, so they sit around of an evening telling wild stories and singing and drinking their mead. Sometimes it is too loud for me. It is quieter out here."
 
She set a hand to Arienh's elbow, gently guiding her toward the path. "The night is fine. Will you walk with me, Arienh? I do not often have the company of a woman."

Arienh nodded as they stepped into the shadow of the trees, knowing the darkness obscured her gesture. "You have been long among their kind?"

"Many years. I was probably younger than you when I was taken from my home by Ronan's father."

"You must have been glad when he died."

"Glad?" She smiled. "Nay, I had come to care for him. It must seem strange to you."

"It does. How could one care for such a man?"

"He was good to me. I was fortunate that he did not sell me but kept me for himself. My life could have been far worse. Yet he did not understand for a long time why I did not appreciate his efforts. After a while we struck a bargain. I agreed to stay with him and try to get along with him for a year. And then if I still wished to leave, he would honor the Celtic custom and would take me back home."

"But you did not go?"

Wynne paused. Arienh wondered if perhaps she had not been heard. Then with a wistful sigh, the older woman began again. "By then, I was with child. But I lost that child. He won my heart when I watched that great, crude warrior cradling that tiny infant in his hands and crying, before taking her out to bury." Wynne chewed on her lower lip. Her eyes seemed too bright in the moonlight. "So I stayed another year. And then I had Ronan."