Sigrun's Secret (28 page)

‘Of course I’ll come,’ she was saying in a tired voice to a desperate-looking stranger. ‘I just need a few moments to prepare for the journey.’

‘What is it?’ I asked Bera.

‘This is Arnor, the
godi
from across the mountains. His wife’s in labour,’ said Bera. She looked deeply concerned and turned to my mother: ‘Thora, please. You’re not well enough to go such a distance in this cold.’

‘I must,’ said my mother, turning away to pick up her cloak. Astrid was hurrying to pack some food for the journey and Asgerd went to unlock my mother’s medicine chest. All was suddenly bustle and noise.

Mother never spared herself when other people needed her, but I’d never heard her sound so weary. I, on the other hand, was rested and full of energy. And so relieved to hear that there were no assassins at our door that I thought a woman in labour sounded a simple matter. I spoke without thinking:

‘Mother, you need to rest. I’ll go.’

There was a sudden silence as everyone stopped what they were doing and looked around at me.

‘Really,’ I said, flustered by so much attention. ‘I’d enjoy the ride and I’m quite recovered from the journey home.’

Slowly my mother turned to stare at me. ‘It’s likely to be a difficult birth,’ she said.

I nodded. I was only half aware of my hand going to my amulet beneath the neck of my kirtle. ‘I delivered a breech baby in Jorvik,’ I said.

My mother blinked in surprise and the silence in the room deepened. I looked around uncomfortably, wondering what all the fuss was about. It took me a few moments to remember how frightened I used to be of working alone. That time seemed so far away now.

‘Very well,’ said my mother at last. ‘Thank you, Sigrun. Make sure you dress warmly. It’s a long way. I’ll send someone tomorrow to fetch you home.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, hurrying to fetch my warmest clothes, my medicines, and my pouch of runes. ‘Remind me, when I get home, mother, to show you all the medicines I was able to buy in Jorvik. I think you’ll find it exciting.’

Surprise held my mother silent.

‘Would you like to come with me?’ I asked Maria. ‘We can saddle another horse.’

‘I not ride horse,’ said Maria sadly. She looked forlorn at the prospect of being left, and I hugged her before I went. ‘I’m sorry to leave you,’ I told her. ‘Our family will look after you. When I get back, I’ll teach you to “ride horse”,’ I added teasingly, drawing a small smile from her.

‘We won’t let you feel lonely while Sigrun’s away,’ said my mother kindly to Maria. ‘We can spend some time getting to know each other.’

It was a hard ride across the mountain pass at the back of the bay. Arnor was unwilling to waste a moment, even on sparing the horses, so we cantered and galloped much of the way in an exhilarating race against time. Once we arrived, there was a long, traumatic labour. I supported the poor woman as best I could, brewed medicines for the pain, and finally, towards morning the next day, she was delivered of a healthy daughter.

‘Thank you, Sigrun,’ said Arnor, shaking my hand energetically, his voice quivering with emotion. ‘We’re deep in your debt. You’re a worthy daughter and apprentice of Thora the Healer.’

For the first time, I truly felt that perhaps he might be right.

I slept deeply for a few hours, and woke to the sound of Ingvar’s voice. I sat up, surprised and pleased, and peeped down from the strange sleeping loft, to see him drinking a glass of breakfast ale with our host.

‘Good morning, Sigrun,’ he said, catching the movement from the corner of his eye and looking up.

‘Good morning,’ I said withdrawing hurriedly, aware of my uncombed hair and half-dressed state.

Washed, dressed, and groomed, I joined him and Arnor for breakfast. Arnor’s wife Thurid was sitting by the fire nursing her newborn, looking content.

‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ I said to Ingvar.

‘How could I let anyone else have the pleasure of accompanying you?’ he asked. ‘Besides, this is a small journey compared to last time I fetched you home!’

I laughed a little, and acknowledged the truth of it.

The return journey was very different to the outward one. It was much milder, the sunshine warming us. We lingered over the ride, talking, remembering our childhood, stopping to look at the views I’d missed while I was away.

‘I didn’t know how I was going to make it through three summers in exile,’ I told Ingvar. ‘Not that I wasn’t pleased to be with father, of course. But we were so far from home! I thought my heart would break.’

‘I was afraid you wouldn’t want to return,’ confessed Ingvar. ‘Once you’d experienced city life.’

‘I hated it, honestly,’ I assured him. ‘I missed the open spaces, the views, the fresh air and the horses. And you must know from Dublin how badly a city stinks.’

‘Yes, I do,’ Ingvar agreed. ‘You’ve thrived on it though. You’re a different person.’

I raised my brows and he hurried to reassure me: ‘I mean that well,’ he said. ‘You’re more self-assured, and it suits you. But while you were away … I was afraid you might forget me.’

‘I had your amulet,’ I told him, flushing with pleasure. ‘It gave me such abilities and courage too. You told me it was powerful and you were right. And it reminded me of you every day. Not that I needed reminding.’

Ingvar brought his horse close beside mine, reached out and caught my fingers in his, pressing them gently.

‘I missed you,’ he said.

My heart beat quickly as I heard the words I’d been longing to hear all the long months of my exile and the days since my return. I smiled shyly up at him.

‘And I you,’ I said.

Ingvar halted his horse, and mine stopped too. Ingvar slid down out of his saddle and lifted me down from mine. Before I properly understood his intention, he was drawing me into his arms. I forgot all about my horse, abandoning the reins, resting my hands instead on the woollen sleeves of Ingvar’s tunic. He was looking down into my eyes, and his were such an intense blue, the expression in them so fierce and at the same time so tender that it took my breath away. The wind whipped some strands of my hair across my face, and Ingvar stroked them softly away again. He ran his thumb over my lips, then bent his fair head and kissed me.

I’d dreamed of kissing him so often that it felt both familiar and terrifyingly strange. As he tightened his arms around me, I yielded completely, wishing I could melt into his embrace and stay there for ever. I felt as though nothing could hurt me, and even the loss of my father faded to a dull ache.

We kissed for a long, long time, until I was dizzy with love. When Ingvar finally released me, I was vaguely surprised to see the world unchanged around me, and the horses quietly grazing nearby. I rested my cheek against him, feeling the warmth of his chest through the fabric of his tunic.

‘There’s something I must say to you,’ said Ingvar seriously.

I looked up questioningly.

‘I love you. Shall we get married?’

I blushed, half laughing, half crying with surprise and pleasure. ‘Yes,’ I said, hugging him. ‘I love you too. Let’s get married.’

It was late in the afternoon before we climbed the final slope, and saw both our farms on the coast before us.

‘Home,’ I sighed happily.

Then I rubbed my hand across my eyes and looked again, not at the farms but out into the bay. I could hardly take in what I was seeing, wondering if it was a trick of the light.

‘Bjorn’s ship?’ said Ingvar slowly, as though he too had trouble believing his eyes.

‘Yes,’ I said. For a wild moment, I thought there had been a mistake, and my father wasn’t dead after all, but come home safe and well to us. Then with a sickening lurch, I realized who it must be. ‘Asgrim,’ I said heavily. ‘Asgrim’s returned. Much too late.’

I was right. My brother had come home. When we walked into the house, he was bowed before my mother, down on one knee, his face dark red with shame, while she berated him for his betrayal. He was silent, neither arguing nor defending himself. We stood quietly until she ran out of breath. Erik stood nearby, fists clenched, looking as though he’d dearly like to punch my brother.

At last Asgrim spoke, his voice low with emotion and shame. ‘I’ve been ignorant and headstrong, mother,’ he said. ‘I did wrong and I’m more sorry than I can say. I spent some days in Jorvik with Thrang. He explained a lot of things to me about your past and father’s too. He made me ashamed of what I’d done. If only you or father had told me!’

‘Don’t blame us!’ said mother angrily. ‘You owed your father your duty and your loyalty. Instead you betrayed him and behaved without honour.’

Asgrim flinched. ‘Mother, this winter, I’ve experienced things that have changed me. I’m older and wiser now, I swear to you.’ He passed his hand over his face. I saw a scar running from his ear to his chin, and guessed that his adventures hadn’t gone as smoothly as he’d hoped. Good, I thought. He deserved to be as miserable as he’d made us.

‘I’ve come home a wealthy man,’ Asgrim told mother. He turned and pointed at three locked chests that had been placed beside the wall. ‘I know it’s no compensation. But I’m ready now to take on my responsibilities and look after you all.’

My mother sniffed scornfully. ‘Are you trying to buy my forgiveness, Asgrim? I have no use for wealth.’

Asgrim blushed scarlet. ‘No, of course not,’ he mumbled.

‘You have a great deal to make up for,’ mother said. ‘If you hadn’t abandoned your father, he might be alive today. Neither words nor wealth can suffice to earn forgiveness for that.’

‘I intend to prove myself,’ Asgrim said. ‘I intend to—’

‘That’s enough,’ snapped Thora. She turned away from him. She would forgive him I knew. With the help of the amulet, I could already feel her softening. Beneath her anger, she was relieved her son was alive and back home. But she wasn’t going to tell him so yet. Instead she looked straight at me.

‘Welcome home, Sigrun,’ she said. ‘The goddess showed me that you have news for us.’ A smile lit her sad countenance briefly. ‘A rare vision; I usually only see danger approaching.’

Everyone who’d been pretending not to listen to the exchange between Thora and my brother now turned to me. I blushed deeply wondering what my mother had seen.

‘I … I’ve delivered a healthy baby girl … ’ I said.

‘That’s very good news,’ said my mother. ‘But it’s not that.’

Ingvar stepped forward and took my hand in his.

‘Sigrun and I have agreed to marry,’ he said.

There was an outcry. My mother embraced me first. ‘I’m happy for you both,’ she said, turning to Ingvar, and taking both his hands. ‘You’ll suit each other so well. I wish you every happiness.’ Then she turned away, tears filling her eyes as our love brought back her own heartbreaking loss. I wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but my brother was standing before me.

‘Will you still take my hand and my good wishes for your future?’ he muttered, staring at the ground. He glanced up briefly but couldn’t hold my gaze. I felt the regret, the remorse, the guilt that was in him, but I couldn’t forgive so quickly.

‘Perhaps I could if father hadn’t died,’ I said in a hard voice, not taking his hand. ‘But as it is, you’ll have to give me time.’

Asgrim let his hand drop and looked miserable.

‘But there’s someone I must introduce to you,’ I said a little more kindly, not for his sake, but for Maria’s. ‘Someone I hope you will treat with more honour and respect than you showed us last winter. She came to us the same day you robbed and deserted us and has been a
true
friend.’

I found Maria standing nearby, took her hand and drew her forward.

‘You have a new foster sister,’ I told Asgrim. ‘This is Maria. Maria, this is my wayward brother Asgrim.’

My brother stared at Maria, stunned. ‘Foster sister?’ he said, as though he’d never heard the words before.

‘Yes. She’s been a good friend to me. Father chose to foster her before he … died.’

Maria stood blushing and fearful. Perhaps she was worried that Asgrim would disapprove of her inclusion in the family. But he bowed and took Maria’s small hand in his large one.

‘In that case, welcome to the family, Maria,’ he said, not taking his eyes from her face. Her blush deepened.

Everyone was waiting impatiently to congratulate me on my betrothal. I was hugged and kissed by most of the household. I laughed and felt my happiness growing once more.

‘I very happy for you, Sigrun,’ said Maria, smiling when she could get near me once more.

‘I hope you’ll be as happy one day,’ I whispered. She shook her head and smiled. Bera was beside me now, drawing my attention from Maria.

‘Sigrun, my dearest girl, we look forward to welcoming you to the family,’ she said. Her lips smiled but her eyes were bleak. I could feel heaviness in her heart. I stood frozen with shock, unable to respond properly to her embrace. I could sense dread, despair, even anger in her. What had I done to deserve this? I’d always thought she loved me.

‘You’re not pleased?’ I asked, unable to stop myself.

‘Nonsense, child,’ said Bera, tears in her eyes. ‘It’s what … what I’ve always hoped for. Thora and I talked about it when you were just babies.’

I knew she was lying, but I had no idea why. I couldn’t understand it. For some reason this betrothal had distressed her. I let it pass. At this moment, I wished I didn’t have the powers the amulet gave me. They’d spoiled a moment of happiness by allowing me to see feelings that should be private.

Nightmeal was going to be a feast in celebration of my betrothal to Ingvar. Mother told Asgrim very pointedly that it wasn’t to welcome
him
home and he should behave modestly and stay sober.

Before the feast began, I climbed into the sleeping loft. I sat still on my bed for a few moments, waiting for a calmness to settle over me. When it did, I took a deep breath and untied the horse amulet from around my neck. Except for the time I’d offered it to Eadred in exchange for Maria, it was the first time I’d taken it off since Ingvar had given it to me.

I didn’t want to spy on anyone else’s feelings tonight. I didn’t want to know that Bera was unhappy about her son’s betrothal to me, or that some of the other young women were fiercely jealous. I wanted to enjoy the evening without other people’s feelings intruding into my hard-won happiness. I tucked the amulet inside my sleeping furs where it would be safe. It was valuable to me both because of its powers and because Ingvar had given it to me. But I wanted to be without it tonight.