Shieldmaiden Page 10

  ‘Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, you have been absent a long time.’ He looked at my dress. ‘You return a Saxon woman?’ I answered in a loud voice to make sure they could all hear me.

  ‘No Bard, I’m no Saxon but I am a changed woman and much will change here too.’ Then quietly I said just to him: ‘Have you completed your work at Becklund? I thought you were staying there.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Kjeld has set me to run Swanhill and watch over his nephew, when he can’t be here himself.’ He added in a whisper: ‘Take care.’ Whether warning or threat, I could not tell.

  I walked towards the hall. Olvir had left the door open and I saw movement inside. Lydia appeared. On her arm, his golden head resting on her shoulder, sat Kveldulf.

  ‘My son!’ I reached out to take him. I cried out in anguish when he turned from me and buried his face against Lydia’s neck.

  ‘Hand me my child, Lydia.’ My voice was hoarse and tears dimmed my vision. She obeyed with a superior smirk. Kveldulf screamed and kicked and reached out to her, crying:

  ‘Mummy, mummy’. His little feet hammered against my stomach and he wriggled in my arms. I clutched him to me regardless and kept saying:

  ‘I’m your mummy. It’s me.’ He didn’t listen. He continued to kick and try to get away from me. Lydia looked on, a triumphant smile on her lips. The whole meaning of my life fell to pieces. My son, the sole reason for my survival, had been stolen from me. I screamed at Lydia’s smirking face:

  ‘You have put a spell on him, you offspring of trolls, you daughter of a snake, you…’

  But she no longer paid attention to me. Her gaze had moved to something behind my shoulder. Her face transformed, her mouth softened and let in a rasping breath, her eyes opened, round and luminous before filling with tears. This stopped my curses and I turned to see Brother Ansgar clambering off his horse. He came up to us, limping after the long ride.

  ‘Sigrid, such language! You should be grateful the lady has looked after your child.’

  Lydia rushed past me, threw herself on the ground before Brother Ansgar. She embraced his knees. She kissed the muddy hem of his habit. She grasped his hand and covered it with her tears. Between her loud sobs she said again and again:

  ‘Padre, mea culpa, mea culpa.’ He put his hand on her head and said something, which I couldn’t hear above Kveldulf ’s screams, Lydia’s sobbing and the rising wave of confused chatter from the assembled household.

  Thorgunn appeared next to me. She put a piece of honeycomb into Kveldulf ’s screaming mouth and took him from me.

  ‘You have been away for a long time.’ she said. ‘He has forgotten you. Come inside now.’

  ‘Where are the keys? You’re not carrying the keys.’

  She patted my arm. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Sigrid. We have much to talk about. Come now.’

  I turned at the sound of a rider leaving the yard. ‘Where is he going?’

  ‘Kjeld’s man. He’ll be breaking the news of your return to my stepson Kjeld.’

  I noticed then the keys to Swanhill attached to Lydia’s belt. Things had indeed changed at Swanhill. Thorgunn took me by the hand and led me inside. I looked around.

  ‘Where is Ingefried?’

  ‘Come sit with me by the hearth, Sigrid. Shhh, Olvir.’

  Olvir lay with his face to the wall on one of the benches. His whole body shook with deep, rasping sobs. I sat down by him and stroked his hair. Thorgunn sat next to me. Her face was pale. She rested her cheek on Kveldulf ’s head and sighed. When she spoke, I had to listen to things I did not want to hear.

  ‘Sigrid, Ingefried took ill shortly after you left. She was a wise woman and a good friend to me. Life has been difficult since she entered the halls of Odin’s fair wife.’

  ‘Ill? But how? I don’t understand. She’s dead?’ Thorgunn patted my arm. I heard the crackling fire, Olvir’s sobs and distant voices from outside. Ingefried, my conscience and my guide, the one constant in my life, the one link with my past – gone. I let out a moan.

  ‘Sigrid, there is no time to mourn. She left me a message for you. I think it is important you should hear it at once. You need to act to secure your future and that of your child.’ The urgency in Thorgunn’s voice cut through my grief. When she saw she had my attention she continued: ‘She said you must gain the confidence and loyalty of your people, free men and women as well as servants and thralls. You must tell them there will be no more beatings and you must promise to treat them with fairness. That’s the first thing. Then you must go to the next assembly of the Allthing and lay proper claim to Swanhill and Becklund in your son’s name.’

  ‘Why do I have to lay claim to what’s Kveldulf ’s by right?’

  ‘His rights have been challenged.’

  ‘By whom? Who has dared? On what grounds?’ My raised voice unsettled Kveldulf, who with a frightened look at me, wriggled down from Thorgunn’s lap and toddled over to the door.

  ‘Keluf out,’ he said, ‘to mummy.’ His words were like knives tearing open my chest. A whine escaped from my lips and I bit my knuckles to stop it growing into the scream I could feel welling up inside me. Thorgunn took my hand.

  ‘Be wary of Lydia. She is Kjeld’s woman now and she has wielded the power here since he returned. She also has your son’s heart and you need to win him back.’

  I had not been so naïve as to think it would be easy to return to Swanhill. But I always thought, and this had sustained me, that my baby would be there waiting for me. Instead I found I had been ousted not only as mistress on the farm but also as Kveldulf ’s mother. I would need to gain the respect of my household, I always knew I’d have to do that, but I never thought I would be a stranger to my beloved son. My whole reason for striving seemed to disappear and exhaustion settled on me like an iron yoke. Thorgunn stroked my arm.

  ‘You must be strong, Sigrid,’ she whispered. ‘We need you to be strong and see us through.’

  Somehow I found the courage to go and face the assembled household out in the yard. Brother Ansgar sat by the water-trough speaking to Lydia and three other thralls. His face was burnt red by the sun but his smile was benign. He looked like a man who has found his vocation. He did not seem to notice the hostile glares from the other thralls and servants. Kveldulf sat on Lydia’s lap. The rest of the household stood in small groups talking. As I opened the door, all fell silent and turned to stare at me. I beckoned to Brother Ansgar to come inside. He made the sign of the cross over the thralls before joining me.

  I sat down in the high seat and invited Brother Ansgar to sit on my right. Thorgunn brought ale, bread and salt and I welcomed Ansgar to my home.

  ‘What’s ailing little Olvir,’ he asked.

  ‘There has been a death while we were g...’ My voice failed me. I had to stop and blink away my tears. Brother Ansgar looked at me, his eyes kind and sad.

  ‘It has not been an easy homecoming for you, Sigrid. Put your trust in the Lord and all will be well.’

  Thorgunn eyed him with suspicion as she put two bowls of curds in front of us. But Ansgar had no time for food.

  ‘Sigrid this must become a Christian house without delay. First free your Christian thralls. Then the rest of your household must be received in baptism.’

  I thought this over. Even if I wanted them to be baptised the household would never obey me. And thralls were valuable. They worked the land and they could be sold when times were hard. I couldn’t afford to let them go. Besides they were not all Christian and to free some would cause dissatisfaction among the rest and among the servants. On the other hand, Brother Ansgar had influence over Lydia and I would need him on my side to persuade her to let me have my baby back. I decided to delay.

  ‘These things can not be rushed, Brother. There’s much I need to see to. While I have been away, a thrall-woman has been in charge. I must re-gain my place as the mistress of this farm before I can change anything at all. Please come with me. I shall retrieve the keys to Swanhill then we shall be a
ble to discuss this further.’

  Lydia bridled when I demanded the keys from her. ‘Kjeld master now. He to me give keys. He…’

  ‘Kjeld was master during my absence. I’m back now. Give me the keys, Lydia.’ She looked to Brother Ansgar for support.

  ‘Who is Kjeld?’

  ‘My husband’s half-brother. He has no lawful claim to the farm. It belongs to my son. He thought I was dead and so he took charge.’

  ‘Kjeld master now.’ Lydia insisted but Ansgar shook his head and under his watchful eye she handed me the keys. I ordered a feast to be prepared in celebration of my safe return and to welcome Brother Ansgar to Swanhill. I didn’t feel like celebrating but there were things I had to put straight which couldn’t be delayed.

  I gave order for food and drink to be prepared and invited Ansgar to walk round the farm with me. As we set off towards the lake, Olvir caught up with us.

  ‘I’ll come with you, Mother,’ he said and blew his nose in his fingers.

  ‘I’m not sure you can call me mother now we’re back.’ I ruffled his hair and put my arm round his shoulders to soften the rejection. ‘Everyone here knows you’re not my son.’

  ‘I know you’re not my real mother but I’m an orphan and now Ingefried is dead as well. Aaand,’ he put great emphasis on the word, ‘you call Ansgar brother and he isn’t.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Brother Ansgar used his most soothing voice, ‘maybe foster-mother is a better name. Who is going to object to that?’

  ‘You will have to call me that then, Olvir.’ I took his clean hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Brother,’ I said as we watched Olvir throwing stones into the lake, ‘I have not told you this before. I was not a good mistress when I lived here. I treated many of my people harshly and there are some who wish me dead. My life may not be safe.’

  ‘Sigrid! But I thought… I’m sure you said…’ Ansgar’s voice betrayed his fear.

  ‘I need to convince them that things will be different. I must do it in my own way. Your safety depends on this as much as mine does.’ I gave him time to think this over. Poor Ansgar, he usually had a group of warriors to defend him should there be any danger. His breathing became shallow and he clutched his cross with shaking hands.

  ‘I must ask you, Brother, not to contradict me or object to anything I say to the household tonight.’ He nodded and I thought he had understood.

  We returned to find preparations for the feast in progress. Women rushed back and forth carrying platters and bowls but without the usual chatter. Men brought firewood and set up the trestle-tables. Someone had brought a barrel of ale. I sat in the high seat with Bard on my right and Ansgar on my left. I seated Lydia with Kveldulf on her lap next to Ansgar. She looked confused.

  ‘I want you to hold Kveldulf and feed him.’

  She looked at Ansgar. He nodded. She lowered her eyes and bowed her head:

  ‘Yes, Mistress. Thank you.’ She spoke in a quiet voice, without her customary sneer. Ansgar smiled. Perhaps he thought he had forged peace between us. But I knew Lydia was, more than ever, my enemy and Swanhill could not hold the two of us.

  Everyone had their fill of meat and ale. The atmosphere improved but not as much as I had hoped. I waited till the household had finished eating before I stood up to address them:

  ‘I return to you a different woman. Not only my clothing but my intent and my mind are changed. While I was away, I saw much misery and many things done which were wrong and it made me think about my own actions. I have understood that I didn’t always treat you with fairness and I have decided to make up for that. There will be no more beatings without good reason. I give you my promise I will run this farm and look after you, feed you and keep you safe. Brother Ansgar brought me back home and he will stay here a while.’

  A subdued murmur spread the length of the hall. Then Old Ake, who was deaf and spoke with a loud voice, without knowing, said to Swein Threefingers, who sat next to him on the bench:

  ‘What’s that monk doing here? Nothing good will come of having him here. And she’s wearing a strange dress. Don’t tell me she’s gone and got herself baptised.’ Other voices joined in:

  ‘They say Christians don’t sacrifice to the Aesirs.’

  ‘They don’t.’

  ‘There will be terrible revenge.’ The voices grew loud and created a great clamour. I tried to make myself heard but my voice was drowned out in the shouting.

  ‘How will the harvest grow?’

  ‘Will this Christus keep the trolls away?’

  ‘A dead god, whoever heard…’

  ‘With only the one god, how will everything get done?’

  I spread my arms for silence but to no avail. Bard stood up. He looked at me. His face was grim and fear welled up inside me. Whose side was he on? I reached for my axe behind the seat. Bard shouted above the noise:

  ‘Listen to me. You have to hear what Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter has to say. Don’t worry about baptism. I was baptised once. It doesn’t make any difference, doesn’t have to. It depends on whether you’re serious or not.’

  Bard’s wife Brita stood up and shook her fist.

  ‘But I don’t want to, whether it means something or not.’ Others joined in:

  ‘Let her try to make us.’ The noise and shouting grew and grew.

  I stood up. I raised my axe and let it fall on the table with a blow to make drinking-horns and soapstone-bowls rattle. The crash made everyone draw back in startled silence. I shook like Loki when the snake’s venom hits him. I thought of my mother and straightened my shoulders the way she used to. I tried to make my voice strong and commanding:

  ‘This,’ I pulled out my Thor’s hammer-amulet and held it aloft for all to see. ‘this is my pledge to you: there will be no forced baptisms at Swanhill. I wear the likeness of Mjolner round my neck, like the rest of you. The gods of our ancestors shall be held in honour as before.’

  ‘Sigrid, in God’s name, woman!’ Ansgar shot out of his seat next to me. I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back.

  ‘Sit, Brother,’ I whispered. I held up my small silver cross. ‘Men and women of Swanhill look at this and compare it to Mjolner. The cross and Thor’s hammer are not all that different.’

  ‘Blasphemy, blasphemy,’ Ansgar groaned. I kicked him to silence.

  I waited a moment to let people consider my words. Some of the men and women began to nod and talk to each other. Bard leant over and spoke to reassure Ake the Old and Swein Threefingers. He may have been Kjeld’s man but before then he was my father’s man and he was on my side. My breath came easier and I was able to continue:

  ‘Brother Ansgar will stay with us. You may want to listen to him or you may not. This will be your choice, but you must treat him well. He is my guest here.’ Mentioning Ansgar’s position as Aethelstan’s scribe would not do him any favours in this company so I was grateful nobody asked how I had come to know him. I looked around the hall, allowing my eyes to rest on each man, woman and child in turn. There were more frowns than nods. I still had to go on. I could not avoid the issue that must be on everybody’s mind.

  ‘I have returned to make Swanhill prosperous and safe. I have given you my pledge to treat you well. As to the reason and manner of my husband’s death, that is a matter for the Lawmen at the next Allthing and not for gossip. There may be some who seek to blacken my name to further their own interests. My husband died sword in hand. His was an honourable death and he has entered the halls of Odin. He has been avenged and I shall raise a stone to his memory. My son, Kveldulf Haukson is the true heir to Swanhill and, as his mother, I am in charge until he reaches maturity. Now I want you to accept my promise of better times at Swanhill.’ Bard led a chorus of cheers which, after a look at his face, most of the household joined in with. I allowed my trembling knees to give way and sat down.

  The next morning I rose before anyone else and went down to the lake-shore. There I shed my Saxon clothing and immersed myself in the cold, clear water. I s
wam out into the lake and, floating on my back, watched the sun rise above the fells. When the cold got too much, I returned to dry myself and put on my accustomed garments; the pleated under-dress and colourful woven pinafore of a Norse woman from Cumbria.

  Later that morning a thrall came running into the yard. ‘Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, men on horses. Some are in their mailshirts and helmets.’

  I sent him to gather those working in the fields and told everyone to arm themselves but to stay out of sight in case the visit was a friendly one. As the group of riders approached, a call went out from one of the freemen:

  ‘It looks like Kjeld. I recognise the horse with those black and white markings.’

  I hastened to send for ale and stood in the middle of the yard, ready to receive Hauk’s half-brother. He rode in, the hooves of his black and white stallion striking sparks from the cobbled walkways. He pulled up in front of me with his entourage until I was surrounded. I took a deep breath, planted my feet in warrior-stance and held out the drinking-horn.

  ‘Well met Kjeld Gunnarson. Will you dismount and share ale and bread with us?’ He glared at me and threw the reins at Olvir who had, as always, turned up from nowhere.

  ‘So you survived then,’ was his reply. I knew I must be careful not to provoke him so I just nodded and handed him the ale. He drank long and deep before passing it to the man next to him. Then he looked around, as if gauging the mood of the assembled men and women. Bard stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with me. This earned him a furious look from Kjeld. Then his gaze came back to rest on me. He pointed to the hammer of Thor and the cross hanging next to each other among the trinkets on my neck-chain.

  ‘What in Odin’s name is that?’ Next he spotted brother Ansgar flapping along the path from the lake, followed by Lydia. His eyes narrowed to malevolent slits. ‘I don’t believe this. You clever vixen.’ He spoke in a low voice almost to himself. Then he turned to Bard and spat on the ground. ‘So Bard, you have handed over to the woman who drove my brother to his death.’

  ‘My master’s wife, the mother of his son, has returned to resume her place on Swanhill.’