Sigrun's Secret (10 page)

‘No, thank you,’ I said, shaking my head. The greed in his eyes reminded me unpleasantly of what I’d seen in my brother’s.

The money in this purse had to last us a long time. We had no horses to sell, no barley crop to harvest. Besides, I was living on board a ship. What occasion would I have to wear a fine dress? That belonged to the world I had left behind me, the world where I would like Ingvar to see me dressed like the summer sky.

‘The lady doesn’t want your cloth,’ Leif told the man firmly, and ushered me away from him. I gave him a grateful look. Holding tight to the purse, I followed Leif to a farmhouse on the outskirts of the little settlement, where a man in a bloody apron agreed to sell us a whole sheep, a barrel of ale, and some peat for a fire and deliver them to our ship. I didn’t like the speculative way he eyed me and the purse, but he quickly realized it was Leif he had to drive a bargain with and the two men haggled fiercely.

‘Is it true you robbed him?’ I asked Leif as we left. ‘He seemed very upset with the price you agreed.’

Leif laughed; a cheerful, carefree sound. ‘No, indeed I didn’t,’ he said. ‘Traders always say that, even if they’ve sold you rotten offal at the price of the best cuts of beef!’

I blushed, feeling naïve and stupid. I had so much to learn.

It was evening before my father returned with Thrang, and there was still no sign of my brother. Erik and I had lit a fire on the beach, in sight of the ship, and had roasted the meat. My father called for the ale to be opened and for drinking horns. He sat with Thrang, Leif, and our men around the fire and talked. I listened curiously to Thrang telling my father about where he lived.

‘It’s become a great city,’ he said, ‘since the Norse took it over. It’s one of the greatest trading centres in the northern world. There’s nothing you can’t buy there. Iron goods, leather, exquisite jewellery, silk, cloth and slaves. There’s a constant coming and going of ships, bustle in the streets, and plenty of business for a man like me. Everyone needs their goods moved from one place to another, and few have their own ships. You should come and stay the winter with me, Bjorn. You’d be settled and I’d have help. We’d both benefit.’

‘What do you think, Sigrun?’ asked father, turning to me. ‘Should we go and stay with Thrang for the winter, and see these sights?’

‘Where is it you live, sir?’ I asked Thrang politely.

I thought from what he’d said, the answer might be Dublin, where Ingvar had been last winter. But he named a place I couldn’t remember having heard of before.

‘My home is in Jorvik, Sigrun,’ he said. ‘It’s in Northumbria, but it’s a Viking city, where Vikings and Saxons live and work side by side. I’m sure you’d feel at home there.’

‘We’ll come if Sigrun agrees,’ said my father. I nodded, thinking one place was much like another when we couldn’t go home, and there was a buzz of excitement among the men. It was a popular decision. There would be plenty of new people to meet and lots to see. Very different to our quiet bay at home, where one or two passing ships in summer were the only variety. I felt everyone’s excitement affect me, my nerves thrilling at the thought of seeing a city for the first time in my life.

‘I suppose Jorvik will be bigger than this place?’ I wondered aloud.

Several men guffawed with laughter at my ignorance and I blushed deeply.

‘It’s a very big city, Sigrun,’ said Thrang gravely. ‘When you’ve seen it, you’ll realize that Jarlshof is to Jorvik, what a cowshed is to a big farm. There is no comparison.’

I felt my blush fade again as Thrang took my question seriously. And indeed, why should I know anything of Jorvik? I didn’t remember ever hearing a single tale about it, living in the far north as we did.

We sat late, exchanging stories. Father didn’t speak of the circumstances under which we’d left Iceland, and I guessed he’d done that privately when he was speaking to Thrang alone. Whether he’d told him the truth or some lie, I had no way of knowing.

At last the sun went down, the fire died, and the night turned cold. Thrang returned to his own ship for the night, promising to speak to us in the morning. We all climbed aboard and huddled in furs and cloaks to sleep. I could hear voices around me still talking of Jorvik and the winter ahead. Gradually they grew quieter and then faded away altogether. The silence of night closed in and I drifted into an uneasy sleep, aware that my brother still hadn’t returned. I knew my father had noticed it too, though he’d said nothing.

I was woken deep in the night by the sound of vomiting, and saw a dark shape leaning over the ship’s rail. I couldn’t think who it was until I heard my father’s voice, low but firm: ‘I don’t expect you to return at this hour in such a disgraceful condition again, Asgrim.’

‘May Thor smite me with his hammer if I care for the orders of a slave,’ muttered Asgrim in a slurred voice. His body heaved again, and I heard the sound of his sick splattering into the water. The smell of it drifted to me on the breeze and I felt nauseous myself.

‘You don’t know what you say, Asgrim,’ said father. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself. You’d do better to keep a sober head and a still tongue. Only the fool seeks wisdom and courage in a goblet of ale.’

I realized Asgrim was drunk again, and was shocked. Both our household and Helgi’s were moderate in their drinking, and this wasn’t something I’d seen before, though I’d heard tales of drunkenness. Only wastrels who neglected their farms and beat their women drank themselves stupid. So why was my brother doing it?

Father said nothing more, and Asgrim eventually lay down with a groan and began to snore. I drifted slowly back to sleep.

I awoke to feel the rain on my face, the air raw and cold. I shivered and burrowed under my furs, but couldn’t recapture sleep. The rain had woken everyone, and they were stirring, stretching, beginning to talk. I sat up, tousled and uncomfortable. It had been such a long time since I’d had a bath and at that moment, I’d have given almost anything for a soak in our pool at home, where the water ran hot from the mountainside even in the coldest winter. My mother called it a blessing from the goddess.

Thrang appeared with Leif as we were making the ship ready to depart.

‘I have to go on to the Orkneys from here,’ said Thrang. ‘There’s little point in you following. I’m delivering timber and then heading back down to Jorvik. If you’ll lend me a man in exchange for Leif, he can accompany you to Jorvik, and make you welcome until my return.’

My father agreed, Geirmund went off with Thrang and Leif came aboard. Meanwhile, my father nudged my brother awake with his foot. ‘Drinking yourself stupid is no excuse for shirking your share of work,’ he said. ‘Lend a hand!’

Asgrim sat up, muttering and cursing, and rolled up his furs. As he got to his feet he stumbled and rushed for the side, green in the face. I turned away, ashamed, hoping Leif wouldn’t notice.

We made a good distance that day with fair winds and sunshine. Asgrim recovered, but his mood remained surly. I avoided him and father avoided both of us. How sad mother would be if she was here to see it, I thought. But if she’d been here, mother would never have allowed these estrangements to grow. Thinking of her made me resolve to approach my father, not to let him shut me out as he was doing.

‘So, father,’ I asked, approaching him at the stern of the ship, where he sat, tiller in hand, squinting into the sun, ‘how do you know Thrang?’

‘How do I know Thrang? Ah, now there’s a tale,’ my father said, and something like a smile touched his lips. He became lost in thought for a few moments, and then his brow clouded with less pleasant memories. I could feel the shift in his mood as well as see it.

‘I’d like to hear it,’ I prompted him gently when he remained silent.

Father looked at me for a moment, and I could tell he was deciding how much to tell me. Or perhaps even whether to tell me the truth.

‘Thrang was our captain on our voyage to Iceland,’ said my father at last. ‘He’s a good man and utterly trustworthy.’

I waited expectantly for more, but it didn’t come. ‘That’s a very short tale,’ I remarked.

‘I’ll tell it to you sometime, my daughter,’ said father, with a sigh. ‘Not all of it is edifying.’

I wanted to ask more, and to explain that both Asgrim and I would understand better if he trusted us, but my father prevented me by shaking his head at me and calling Erik to his side to discuss the route along the coast ahead. I sighed and moved away, sad and disappointed that I couldn’t reach him.

The coast of Scotland was bleak, and for three days it rained in torrents. We huddled under our cloaks on deck by day, battling contrary winds and choppy seas. By night we slept under makeshift shelters of animal skins. They leaked around the edges and even when they didn’t, the dampness penetrated everything. I was more homesick than I could ever have imagined possible.

I thought of the three long years that must pass before we could turn homewards once more, and ached with sorrow. They were like a vast ocean of time that I could see no way of crossing. Three summers when there would be foals to gentle and to train and I wouldn’t be there to help. Three years of babies that my mother would have to deliver without her apprentice. How was her leg healing? It would be so long till I knew.

I thought of waiting all that time to discover whether Ingvar loved me, and sighed with longing. In three years I’d be almost too old to be married. I touched the horse amulet, my constant reminder of him. I’d have exchanged all the wealth in my father’s purse to be back in our own cosy, fire-lit longhouse instead of being out at sea in the rain.

On the fourth day the rain eased at last. The sun came out and everyone’s clothing steamed. I felt damp and dirty, my skin raw and chapped from exposure to the salt wind and the wet weather.

‘Father, can’t we stop?’ I begged. ‘We need to bathe, even if it’s only in a cold stream. And we need to dry out by a fire.’

My father smiled kindly at me. ‘Very well, Sigrun. Will this bay do for you?’ He pointed inland to a sandy beach backed by woodland.

‘Yes, it will,’ I agreed at once, relieved.

We beached the ship on the sand and looked around us. I’d never seen such huge trees before. They towered over me like giants, and I was half afraid to go in among them. Tentatively, I walked up to the nearest one and put my hand against its rough bark. I looked up and felt dizzy for a moment. It was as tall as four or five men at least.

‘Why do they grow so tall?’ I asked my brother. He shrugged and pushed his way past me.

‘They just do. Help us find some firewood.’

I followed him in nervously, and found everything soggy with the rain. My feet squelched in mud which gave off unfamiliar scents of rich earth and rotting vegetation. The trees stood silent around me like waiting warriors, still for now but full of power. They had a tangible presence.

I found some damp branches lying on the ground and pulled them back onto the beach with me only to find that Asgrim and Erik had found a whole tree, long fallen and brittle. I left them breaking it up with an axe, picked up a cloth, a cake of soap, and a clean kirtle and looked for the nearest stream.

I found a sparkling brook, and followed it back into the woods, climbing alongside it up a hill. I wanted to be sure of privacy. When I came to a small pool, the water swirling as it tumbled in from a short fall above, I stopped and looked around. I could see and hear nothing but the birdsong in the trees, so I relaxed and stripped my filthy clothes off. The water was so cold I gasped as I submerged myself. Shivering, I scrubbed myself clean, the rough soap scratching my skin. Then I shook my long hair out of its plaits and scrubbed at that too, rubbing the roots with the soap.

I was just rinsing the last soap from my hair when a rustling in the trees and a flash of red spooked me suddenly. I became aware how alone I was and fled from the pool, splashing and stumbling in my hurry. Shivering, I rubbed myself dry with my cloth, dressing quickly, in case it was a spirit of the pool that I’d disturbed. I dragged on my clean clothes and hurried back along the stream. Not far below my pool, I found my father, his back to me, his sword at his side. He turned as I crashed through the undergrowth towards him.

‘Father?’ I asked, surprised.

‘I was standing guard,’ he explained. ‘We don’t know if there are people nearby or whether they’re friendly.’

I flung myself at him in relief and hugged him, still shaking from the cold and the strange encounter.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘Did something frighten you? It wasn’t wise to go off alone.’

‘I’m sorry. It was just some spirit or creature that startled me,’ I confessed. ‘And I’m afraid of the trees too.’

‘Really?’ he asked, sounding surprised. He started walking back down towards the beach and I followed. ‘Well, I suppose you’ve never seen them before … I miss them at home. Woodland like this is beautiful. Peaceful.’

‘It’s a place of power,’ I said. ‘I haven’t worked out whether it’s good or menacing yet.’

Father smiled. ‘You are more like your mother than you know,’ he told me. I felt a wave of his sadness, and realized he was missing her just as I was.