Shieldmaiden (21 page)

I failed to recognise a single bad act of Ansgar's in all the time I had known him. It could perhaps be something he had thought or wished, apparently that counted as well as acts in his religion. The Commandments, I knew, had things about not wanting what belonged to others. But Ansgar had never shown any interest in women or possessions. I sat in confused silence. When he got no response, he continued:

‘If you would but return to the true faith, you could hear my confession despite being a lay-person. In extreme circumstances, I'm sure the Lord would allow it.'

I thought, was this a trap? No, Ansgar was clever but incapable of deception.

‘Brother, you know I was converted under duress. I am not a Christian in my heart. I would like to help you but, if it's true that your God can see into people's minds, then he will know.'

He sighed, a long, trembling breath which made me realise how he suffered.

‘Oh Sigrid, I cannot carry this any longer. I must unburden myself. When those poor wretches attacked the farm last spring, I tried to talk to them but they have a different tongue, which I do not know. I showed them my cross. I waved it in front of them and that's when it happened. Dear Lord, I feel such remorse!'

‘Ansgar, what happened?'

He hid his face in his hands and I could only just make out his words.

‘One of the raiders tried to take my cross. He grabbed it and wouldn't let go. I should have turned the other cheek. I should have let him take it. But…'

‘But what did you do, Brother? Did you kill him?' I found it hard not to smile at his distress.

‘No, but I hit him with my staff and I felt anger, such anger Sigrid. They spared no one, the buildings were on fire, old people were struck down along with the young. Two of them violated our women, right there on the ground. I was carried by my sinful anger to use my staff as a weapon and I beat them off and I continued to strike around me.'

‘But Ansgar, I'm sure your God allows you to save women and to defend those weaker than you from attack.'

‘Yes, he does. But he does not condone what I felt.'

I remembered then Ansgar's flushed, excited face as he set off to gather the animals after the raid. The prim little scribe from Aethelstan's court was, indeed, a long way from home.

‘What did you feel, Brother?'

He didn't answer at once. He sat with his head in his hands. Then he spoke in a hoarse whisper:

‘Sigrid, I felt triumph, I felt joy, more than I've ever felt before. I wanted to go on smiting the marauders even after they ran. What if I'd killed one of them, Sigrid? I forgot they are God's creatures. I wanted them dead. I have broken my vows. I am unworthy of serving the Lord. Bjarne tells me I growled like the Fenris wolf. How can anyone listen to me preaching the love of our Lord after that?'

‘No, no you're wrong about that at least! Remember Swanhill? Have you not noticed how they all treat you differently here? They like you because you work with them and fight for them. What you felt was the battle-fury. We believe the god Thor sends it to us to give us courage. Maybe your god does the same.'

He thought about this for a long time. His hands, once white and soft with ink-stains on the fingers, now brown and calloused like the rest of us, played with his precious silver cross. Then he sat up straight.

‘Of course kings and warriors pray to Our Lord and the Saints for victory and make gifts to churches and monasteries. But I cannot believe …'

‘Why not, Ansgar? The battle-fury helps with the pain as well and you took a blow on the head, did you not?' I saw the furrows of worry leaving his brow.

‘So you think maybe the Lord has a purpose for me after all and I have not fallen from His grace.'

I was pleased to see him smile again but I sighed at the thought of the renewed vigour of his missionary zeal which I sensed would follow.

A few days after mid-winter a half-score of sheep escaped from the enclosure. I rode with a couple of the dogs up on the fell to look for them. Olvir and Kveldulf wanted to come and since it was a bright day I agreed. Kveldulf rode in front of Olvir on the gelding. He had grown very confident and I heard him chattering to Olvir. He had decided he needed his own dog. This was Thorfinn's doing. He had promised the lad a puppy from his next litter and Kveldulf was too young to understand that the puppy was not yet born. He made daily enquiries about whether Thorfinn would come that day with his dog. Olvir tried to explain but wasn't getting far. I just enjoyed listening to them while watching the fells for signs of sheep.

We found them but the day was fading and I decided to drive them to the shieling and leave them in the enclosure there overnight. We sat resting before our return ride when the peace was broken by the old hound. He snapped out of his sleep and stood up. He sniffed the breeze and a growl rose from the back of his throat. Swift joined in.

‘Olvir, take Kveldulf and the dogs inside the hut! Try to keep them quiet.' I climbed up on the wall and scanned the horizon. Something moved over on High Snockrigg. I strained my eyes to see a rider appearing over the crest of the hill. I leapt down and got my spear and Dragonclaw. The boys ran inside and I kept a look out from behind the wall. Long before I could see clearly, I knew it was him. I walked towards him whispering his name:

‘Ragnar, Ragnar…' When he came within earshot I heard him calling me. I threw my weapons on the ground and ran to him.

Nothing in my dreams, nothing in my memories were as sweet as that reunion. Ragnar threw himself off his horse and picked me up as if I had no weight at all. He swung me round and round until the sky became the land and we fell on the frozen ground, dizzy and drunk on excitement. I lay on my back laughing and crying. He leant over me and said in a voice filled with wonder:

‘Sigrid, my mother tells me I have a son. Is it really true?'

I nodded and with his face against my neck he whispered my name over and over. I kissed his hair and we held each other hard and close. Then a shriek from near by:

‘Siiigriiid!! Let her go, you nithing!' We sat up to see Olvir come storming down the slope swinging Dragonclaw with both hands.

Ragnar sprang to his feet and drew his sword. He stepped back and looked down at his small assailant:

‘What in Odin's name is this?'

I sat up and laughed.

‘Olvir, calm yourself ! It's Ragnar, Kveldulf 's father, my...' I hesitated. Ragnar looked at me.

‘Husband?' he said. Olvir straightened up and bristled:

‘I'm Olvir. I am Sigrid's foster-son and I look after her.'

Ragnar's mouth twitched as he put down his sword and offered his hand. Olvir, with a sideways glance at me, put down Dragonclaw and let his hand disappear into Ragnar's.

I led the way back to the shieling. Olvir walked next to Ragnar.

‘She fought in the battle of Brunnanburh, you know.' His voice was bursting with proprietary pride.

I went inside, picked up Kveldulf and let the dogs loose. I waited for their excited whining and tail-wagging to stop. Then, with a silent prayer to Freya that Ragnar would accept the child as his, I set Kveldulf down.

‘Ragnar this is your son.'

When he saw the stranger, Kveldulf turned and buried his face in my tunic. Ragnar frowned. A cold shiver made its way down my spine. With trembling hands I picked up Kveldulf and tried to make him look at Ragnar but he hid his face in my shoulder.

‘Kveldulf it's your father. Look at your father.' It was no good. The child picked up my anxiety and began whimpering. I pleaded with Ragnar. ‘He's shy. He doesn't know who you are. He's too young to understand.'

Ragnar looked at Kveldulf, a wrinkle formed between his eyebrows.

‘I may need some time to get used to this. I don't know anything about children.'

‘Nothing to it,' said Olvir in his most superior voice. ‘Kveldulf is a very easy child to look after.'

‘Olvir, go and fetch Ragnar's horse.' I had to get the boy out of the way, in case there was a limit to Ragnar's patience.

‘Aisgerd says he looks like you.' I pleaded.

Ragnar's gaze shifted from our son to me. His features softened into a smile.

‘Sigrid, I believe the boy is mine. Don't fret. But right now I just want to be alone with you.'

His eyes were still as green as the sea over sand. I relaxed and felt my breathing quicken as my body responded to his look. I swung Kveldulf round to sit on my hip and lifted my face to Ragnar's. I lost track of time and place as we kissed but was brought back by an angry little voice:

‘Here's the horse. He hadn't got far.'

We put Olvir and Kveldulf on the gelding and I rode with them until they were close enough to the farm to continue alone. When I returned to the shieling it was getting dark and Ragnar had lit a fire. He spread his cloak and pulled me down to lie with him on the ground.

Like once before we stayed all night, and through the broken roof the stars and the moon witnessed our bodies' pleasure in each other. From time to time we slept but we talked little. There was too much to say and many things were difficult to speak of. A fine drizzle fell towards morning, the sun hid behind clouds and soon the rain increased. The gods were telling us it was time to go home. I became aware of my muddy man's breeches and coarse woollen tunic. My hair was matted and tousled. Ever since my arrival at Buttermere I had neglected my womanly looks and now I felt embarrassed in front of my lover.

‘I would have dressed better…' I mumbled. Ragnar laughed and hugged me.

‘You weren't exactly a picture last time I saw you either.'

As he picked up his cloak I noticed the rich fur-lining and now I also saw the fine wool and braiding of his tunic.

‘You have done well while you were away?'

‘William Longsword was grateful.'

Most men like nothing better than to describe the honours they gain in battle but Ragnar seemed evasive. I wondered why. I soon found out.

Olvir had been looking out for us and, when we dismounted, he came running into the yard. He ignored Ragnar and called to me:

‘Sigrid, he's brought women. He's no better than that Hauk.' I swung round to face Ragnar. He glared at Olvir then he turned to me with an apologetic look on his face.

‘They're thralls, Sigrid. They were given to me by William Longsword.'

I turned and ran to the house. Inside, the people were getting ready for the day. Huddled in a corner were five newcomers, three men and two women. One of the women was tall and stronglooking. Her hands showed the evidence of hard work and her face spoke of sorrows. She was no threat to me. Then I noticed the other one. She was young. Her skin was white against her rich dark hair. She wore a green embroidered gown, trimmed with gold ribbon and fur. Round her waist sat a belt made of finest leather with a large silver-buckle and around her neck hung a thick gold chain with many beads and trinkets. My chest tightened as I saw a baby at her breast.

I bared my teeth in fury. A woman to challenge me for Ragnar's love. A baby to challenge the rights of my son. I put my hand on Dragonclaw and she slid out of her bed ready and eager. I would spill the blood of the abomination right there in the hall. Ragnar came up behind me and took my arm in a firm grip.

‘Sigrid, they are thralls.'

I wanted to vent my fury on his treacherous face with my fists but he pinned my arms to my sides and held me tight.

‘Sigrid, you are my woman,' he whispered. ‘You are my wife.'

My eyes filled with angry tears. He really thought that would make it well, did he? He turned me to face him, held me close and continued to whisper softly in my ear. My rage sat like a lump in my throat and I couldn't speak. I squeezed the handle of Dragonclaw and held my body stiff and unresponsive. Then a blade of clear thought cut through my fury. If I couldn't kill them, I would get rid of the woman and her hateful brat another way. A high-born, female slave would fetch a good price. Held firmly in the vice of Ragnar's arms I thought some more. Money would buy a passage to Norway. Maybe Odin had sent the wretch my way to help me towards my goal. I made my decision, relaxed my head onto Ragnar's chest and took a deep breath before looking up at him.

‘So they can be sold then, Ragnar, can't they?'

He hesitated. I thought he blanched and held my breath. He looked at the woman with the baby. I felt his heart beat through his jerkin. He looked at Kveldulf where he sat on Aisgerd's lap, then at me. At last he spoke:

‘It shall be as you wish.'

The woman cried and wailed in a foreign tongue when she was put on to a horse and led away. Brother Ansgar made his usual complaint about the evils of buying and selling people. He would not take part in the trade but in the end he agreed to go with Thora and Beorn to Cockermouth. They got a good price and returned safe. Ragnar showed no regrets. He presented me with the money the way a husband would compensate a wife for his transgressions.

We kept the other thrall-woman. She was needed on the farm. She seemed resigned with her lot and did the work she was given to do. Of the men who came with Ragnar two were thralls. They too were welcome additions to the farm. We would be able to clear new fields and build a larger byre.

The third man was a young Frankish warrior who had attached himself to Ragnar, half friend, half servant. His name was Lothar and his presence caused Thora to bleach her hair and wear her best clothes. She blushed each time his soft, brown eyes looked in her direction and she smiled as I had never seen her smile since I arrived at Buttermere.

Ragnar had brought gold and silver coins from Neustria. He presented me, his mother and Thora with jewellery. Gifts were set aside for Gyda but it was not deemed safe to announce Ragnar's arrival even to his own kin at Rannerdale. So the feast we held to welcome him home was enjoyed only by the household at Buttermere. But what a feast it was. We filled our stomachs with fresh game, smoked ham, cheese and the dried fruits and nuts from our stores. Ansgar brought provisions from Cockermouth, wheat was in short supply but he had bought some barley and we brewed strong ale. We no longer had to be careful with our supplies, we had money to buy what we needed. We just had to make sure people didn't start asking where this newfound wealth came from. Ansgar had brought back some wine and I tasted this drink for the first time. I found it not to my liking but Ragnar had got used to it while fighting in Neustria. That evening he led me to the sleeping alcove and from then on we lived as master and wife of Buttermere farm.