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Authors: Marie-Louise Jensen

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #General, #Historical

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BOOK: Sigrun's Secret
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His words would have hurt me and made me feel ashamed just half a year before. But I had fewer doubts of my abilities now, and was growing in experience daily. I wasn’t surprised to hear my mother had doubted me. After all, I’d been certain myself that I lacked healer qualities.

‘And you were so unwilling to part with your stories,’ I teased him in return. ‘I see all we had to do was to pay you, and you would have told them to us.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

‘There’s a ship just arrived from Iceland at the quay,’ said Thrang one spring evening at nightmeal. ‘It’s early in the year, isn’t it? It’s not four months since Yule.’

A tiny, irrational flame of hope leapt into being within me. It couldn’t possibly be Ingvar, could it? Had he persuaded his father to follow us? I suppressed the idea at once, knowing how impossible that was. Just because the ship was from Iceland, didn’t mean it had Ingvar aboard.

My father had another, equally unlikely thought: ‘It would be too much to hope that it’s my son with our ship?’ he asked.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Thrang. ‘They are strangers, so I hear. But I’m sure you’ll hear from Asgrim before long, now that spring’s here.’

A shadow passed over my father’s face. ‘I wish I could believe that,’ he said sadly. ‘So, a ship has sailed here from Iceland? How I wish I were sailing in the other direction. It’s hard to have to stay put here, knowing that the days are lengthening and growing milder and the seed will soon need planting in the fields at home.’

‘Of course,’ said Thrang with gruff sympathy. ‘And I can hardly believe I need to begin sailing again myself tomorrow.’ He sighed. ‘I was so determined not to leave Jorvik with my son’s case still unsettled.’

We all thought of the second half of the winter which Leif had spent nearby and yet completely cut off from us. It was utterly unjust. But after all this time, I still had no clue as to what had happened to Leola on Yule night.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you on this trip?’ my father asked Thrang.

‘No,’ said Thrang at once. ‘You’re sending your men with me; that’s help enough. I’ll be more comfortable knowing you’re here while I’m away. In case … anything can be done for Leif.’

We all knew how unlikely that was. The king had returned weeks ago and Thrang had called on him. Leif would be released, he was told, when he was prepared to reveal Leola’s whereabouts. Or else eventually put to death. He’d tried to go back again, to plead Leif’s case, but had been turned away at the door.

‘Very well,’ said Bjorn. ‘If I’m to stay here, I’ll go and look for that Icelandic ship in the river tomorrow, and find out what news there is from Iceland. Though it’s hardly likely I’ll know the people. Will you come with me, Sigrun?’

‘Certainly,’ I agreed at once, glad of the prospect of an outing with my father. I mustn’t let myself dream of seeing Ingvar. I must simply remember that I liked to walk down to the Ouse, where the wind often blew in from the sea and was free of the stink of the city.

We saw Thrang off at dawn the next morning, and left the house ourselves shortly after.

‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the Icelanders had brought news of mother?’ I said. ‘I’d give anything to hear she’s well.’ I was too shy to mention Ingvar to my father.

‘Me too,’ said father. ‘But it’s impossible. None of our neighbours sail to Jorvik.’

We’d only just turned the first corner when a slave came running up to us.

‘Are you the healer?’ he asked me. My heart sank. I could never plan even an hour without it being interrupted by a summons to some distant part of the city. But then I put aside such selfish feeling. There were sick people needing my help, and they paid me for my trouble and my skills, often very generously.

‘I am,’ I said.

‘Knut Siefredsson wants to see you,’ said the woman. ‘In Petergate … ’

‘I know Knut,’ I said, remembering the king’s younger son. ‘Is he ill?’

‘He’s very sick with a high fever,’ he said. ‘If you’re willing, I could take you there now.’

I turned to my father. ‘I’m so sorry to miss our walk, and the chance of perhaps meeting people from home,’ I said to him.

‘Don’t worry,’ said my father with a smile. ‘If they’re worth meeting, I’ll offer them hospitality this evening.’

On impulse, I reached up and hugged him. Seeing him out in the spring sunshine this morning, I suddenly noticed he was ageing. There was grey in his dark hair and deep lines around his eyes. We’d grown closer than ever before over the winter, and I felt a rush of affection for him. Perhaps my mother had done the right thing, sending me to take care of him, however hard I’d found it to leave home.

Father headed towards the river and I fetched Maria and my medicines. ‘I haven’t seen Knut for ages,’ I said to Maria as we walked. ‘Not since … well, not since before Yule in fact.’

It struck me that it might be useful for me to ask Knut a few questions. I hadn’t thought of him until now, but he’d certainly been one of Leola’s admirers. But I’d had my hopes of solving this mystery dashed so many times that I wasn’t optimistic.

Maria and I found Knut lying in a makeshift bed in the upstairs room. He was wrapped in furs, shivering, flushed and clearly very ill. He tried to lift his head as we came in, but let it drop back down with a groan. ‘I can hardly move,’ he said in a faint voice. ‘I’ve never felt so ill. Is it brain fever? Or some deadly plague?’

I laid a hand on his brow and noted the high fever, the dry burning skin. Then I checked his arms and torso for rashes.

‘Has your stomach been upset?’ I asked him.

‘Yes.’

‘Have you passed blood?’

‘Yes … no … I don’t know. What’s wrong with me? Am I dying?’

‘You’re not dying,’ I told him. ‘I suspect you have the influenza. As long as you follow my instructions and take the medicines I give you, there should be no complications.’

Knut sighed with relief and then shivered violently.

‘You should be down by the fire,’ I said to him. ‘Not up here in the cold.’

‘I thought it might be contagious,’ he said weakly.

‘It is, of course,’ I agreed. ‘But that can’t be helped. Do you have men in the house who can carry you, or support you? We must get you back downstairs, and then I’ll need to brew some medicinal tea for you.’ I got up to go to the stairs, but Knut called me back, his voice suddenly stronger and urgent.

‘Wait! Can’t my slaves brew the medicine?’

‘I suppose so,’ I said doubtfully, turning back to look at him. ‘But I’d rather do it myself, or Maria can … ’

My voice tailed off. I’d heard something. A short dry cough from below stairs. I recognized it immediately. It sounded just like Leola’s cough. I snatched up the powdered willow bark and headed for the stairs. I had to know at once if I was right. The cough sounded again. Dry and distinct from the cellar room.

I paused and looked back at Knut. He opened his bloodshot eyes, suddenly wide awake, and they met mine. I could see that he knew I knew.

‘She’s
here
,’ I said accusingly. ‘How could you?’

I ran down the stairs just in time to see the skirts of a kirtle whisk behind a door, and to hear the thud of wood on wood as it closed. I ran towards it.

‘You can’t go in there,’ said a slave woman rising to her feet, agitated.

I ignored her and pulled the door open. There, hiding in the food store, paler than I remembered her, stood Leola. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me defiantly.

‘Hello, healer,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember your name. So what are you going to do? Tell my uncle where I am? Well, I don’t care. I’m sick of hiding here. I want to be married.’

‘Do you even care that someone who loves you has been imprisoned while you’ve been hiding here?’ I asked her angrily. I wanted to slap her face.

Leola snorted impatiently and looked away.

‘Maria!’ I called.

‘Yes?’ Maria was near the top of the stairs waiting, and came down at my words.

‘Go and tell the king we’ve found Leola, please,’ I said in a shaking voice.

Maria gasped. ‘You … ’ she said. ‘You
here
?’

It seemed a very long time until the king’s men arrived. Leola sat down by the fire and stared into the flickering flames in sullen silence, and I could hear Knut’s fevered breathing upstairs. He must know he would be in deep trouble with his father, but perhaps he was too ill to care. At last there was a commotion upstairs and a band of armed warriors arrived with Maria.

When we reached the king’s house, the king was waiting in the same carved chair I’d last seen his eldest son in. He looked old and careworn in the light of day. Thorvald stood by his side with a face like thunder. He glared at Leola as she stood before his father.

‘So, Leola, Eadred’s niece,’ said the king sternly. ‘You’ve caused us a great deal of trouble. Would you like to explain yourself?’

‘I’m engaged to your son, Knut,’ she said. ‘I wear his token.’

So saying, she held up a ring on her little finger. The king held out his hand, and rather than remove the ring, Leola put her hand into the king’s. It lay there, small and delicate in his huge fist. The king was stunned into silence for a second, gaping at her, then he brusquely turned her hand over to examine the ring before pushing her away.

‘It bears the royal seal,’ he said. ‘But do you tell me it was my son who stole you from your uncle’s house?’

‘Oh, he didn’t steal me,’ she said blithely. ‘I ran away while my uncle was out at the Yule feast and waited at his house. My uncle had been most cruel to me, and I needed protection.’

I stood silently by, piecing this together. Knut had been at the Yule feast. So I’d ruled him out. I didn’t think he could have been involved. But Leola must have been waiting on his doorstep when he got home. At this moment I really hated her for all the suffering she’d caused.

The king looked furious. He’d made such a fuss about pursuing and punishing the guilty person, and all this time his own son had been hiding the runaway.

‘Where’s Knut?’ he snapped.

‘He’s ill, my lord,’ I said, stepping forward. ‘He has a high fever.’

‘Tell him to wait on me the moment he’s able to get up. I want the truth of this,’ snarled the king to Thorvald, who bowed politely. ‘Meanwhile take the girl back to her uncle and tell him to keep a closer eye on her in future. You can go, all of you. I’m sick of this whole business.’

I spoke before anyone could move. ‘Please, my lord,’ I said. ‘An innocent man has spent three months in prison because of this. Can he be freed?’

‘We don’t know that he’s innocent,’ said the king, raising his voice angrily. I could feel he didn’t want to accept that his son was to blame. ‘How do we know that he wasn’t involved in spiriting her away from her uncle’s house?’

‘I think, my lord,’ said Thorvald, taking a step forward, ‘that you’ll find all this is a plot to unseat you from your rightful place as king. As you know, this girl is daughter to the former Saxon king of Northumbria. And you know that my brother has been planning to visit Northumbria as soon as the weather improves. I think he feels that as your son and married to the princess, he may get support to raise troops against you.’

Thorvald looked pleased with himself as he delivered this speech. I remembered Knut’s callous hope that Thorvald would die of his wound last autumn, and realized the animosity between the brothers ran deep. I could feel the suppressed hatred in Thorvald, until it was blotted out by a surge of pure rage from the king, who had now absorbed his words and their implications.

‘Are you saying my own son is plotting with the enemy against me?’ he shouted.

‘No!’ cried Leola. ‘He’s marrying me because he loves me!’

No one took any notice of her.

‘He’s ambitious, father, and it’s never suited him to be the younger son,’ said Thorvald. ‘He knows I’m loyal to you, and will always serve you faithfully.’ There was a calculating look in his eye as he spoke, and I suddenly remembered the bracelet Leola still wore. He was as big a traitor as his brother.

‘Are you sure that wasn’t your own plan?’ I asked. ‘When you were meeting her in secret last year?’

‘What nonsense is this?’ said Thorvald quickly.

I grasped Leola by the arm and pulled up her sleeve, praying that the bracelet would still be there. To my relief, it was. Concealed on her arm was the Midgaard Serpent, glowing gold for all to see.

‘She had this from Thorvald as a gift,’ I said.

‘He promised me!’ cried Leola, starting to weep. ‘He
promised
he’d marry me if I did what he said and I’d be queen. And then even though he got me with child, he broke his word!’

I’d unleashed a torrent of secrets. It was out of my hands now, and I wasn’t sorry. These people had let Leif suffer for their underhand schemes. The king gaped at Leola speechlessly for a moment and then bent a furious stare on his eldest son. ‘Thorvald?’ he asked.

‘It’s a lie, father,’ Thorvald said smoothly. ‘I never promised marriage.’

His father gave him a look of withering scorn. ‘So you went running to his brother?’ said the king, turning back to the weeping girl in front of him. ‘Hoping to become queen that way instead? There is no word bad enough for you, you scheming vixen!’

BOOK: Sigrun's Secret
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