Shieldmaiden Page 11

  ‘So that’s how you think it stands.’ He looked from Bard to me. We remained facing each other in hostile silence for some time. Then Kjeld spoke: ‘I will meet you at the gathering of the Allthing this autumn. You have a lawsuit against you for the death of Yngvar Anlafson of Rannerdale. You also have no right to Swanhill.’ I had no time to reply. He turned, mounted his horse and rode off. We watched them disappear through the coppice.

  ‘You will need champions for when you go to the Allthing.’ said Bard. ‘I’ll support you but you’ll need many more.’

  ‘You can count on me too, Foster-Mother.’ said Olvir and puffed out his chest.

  The thought of the lawsuit didn’t worry me. I was prepared to pay blood-money to Yngvar’s family. That was only proper. I knew I had no right to Swanhill, it would be inherited by Kveldulf and I would be in charge until he reached maturity. I should have paid more heed to Kjeld’s threat. He held a deep hatred towards me and he was a most resourceful man.

  11.

  The gods were good to us that year and brought a fine harvest. I worked alongside everyone else in the fields and returned each night exhausted, to peaceful sleep. Kveldulf was getting used to me but Lydia was still the main figure in his life. He called her ‘mummy’. He called me ‘mummy’ as well but only when prompted by Thorgunn. I made sure Lydia was busy in the fields and had Thorgunn care for Kveldulf. Brother Ansgar too was given a sickle and encouraged to help but, after he proved dangerous to himself and others, he was excused. Instead he was set to assist Thorgunn around the house and to watch over the smaller children. He seemed to enjoy this and they could be heard singing and talking together. But then the parents complained that he was trying to convert them and I had to instruct Thorgunn to make sure Ansgar didn’t influence the children against their parents’ wishes. She told me she did her best but every now and then we still heard the children sing his hymns. His faith in my ability to protect him was unshakeable, however much I tried to explain the insecurity of my own position.

  ‘I have the Lord on my side and I must do his holy work,’ he said when I tried to make him less strident in his missionary efforts. I allowed him to say mass for the Christians and, so as not to offend the others, I told him to use the bath-house for this. He entreated me to join them, reminding me of my baptism. I was conscious of the need to keep him on my side in my dealings with Lydia so I made excuses rather than refuse outright.

  One morning I sat away from the rest when Thorgunn and Ansgar brought breakfast to the workers in the field. I beckoned to Thorgunn to join me. We watched as Kveldulf toddled across the stubble to topple over into Lydia’s lap.

  ‘I have meant to ask you, Thorgunn. You never told me how Ingefried died.’ She clasped her hands and took a deep breath.

  ‘I’ve been waiting to tell you, Sigrid but I find it hard to speak of. My grief is mixed with a feeling of blame. I should have been able to heal her and keep her well for your return.’

  ‘There can be no blame on you. I know you will have tried your best. What was the nature of her illness? I cannot remember her other than in good health. All through my childhood, she was always there, strong as an ox and tough as old leather.’

  ‘But remember, she was old and after you left she began to feel it. She complained about fatigue. Then she seemed to just fade away. We made strengthening brews for her but nothing helped. She couldn’t work in the end, she was so weak. And then Kjeld came back.’ She fell silent.

  ‘And?’

  Thorgunn covered her face with her pinafore. ‘Oh Sigrid, you know I would have saved her if I could. She was my friend. Such a good friend. But there was nothing I could do.’

  I pressed my fists to my chest as if it were possible to calm my heartbeat.

  ‘The cliff. He threw her off the cliff.’ I forced the words through the ache in my throat.

  ‘He was about to. We both knew. But Ingefried had her pride. She was not going to wait for Kjeld to send her to Frigga’s hall. She went herself. I woke that morning and saw her getting dressed in her finest clothes. I followed…’

  ‘Stop! No more. I can’t…No.’ I closed my eyes and fought to stay calm but my tears would out. Thorgunn, her hand stroking my back, waited but a brief moment before she continued to tell me what I did not want to hear.

  ‘I followed her outside and persuaded her to ask the runes before she did anything that couldn’t be changed. Together we cast the sacred marks on the ground and read them. But there was nothing good in their message, nothing. So then she knew Kjeld would throw her down the cliffs. There would be no grave-ale drunk for her, so she made her decision to take the leap. We walked to Angler’s Crag and I stayed with her while she prepared herself. She gave me her message for you. Together we chanted the sacred words, I watched her leap and alone I chanted the lament to Frigga, entreating her to make Ingefried’s journey swift and painless. She was very brave.’ I nodded. Yes, she would have been.

  I gained some comfort from knowing that Ingefried had made her own decision and that she had not been alone. But in the next few days, as I thought of the manner of her death, I found it increasingly hard to understand the nature of her illness. She was old but she was strong and she had promised to wait for me and to look after Kveldulf. Where had this wasting disease come from and how had it happened so quickly?

  The time came, in the early autumn, when day and night are of equal length. There was an undercurrent of resentful anticipation among the men and women who did not listen to Brother Ansgar and that was the majority. To reassure them, I made the usual preparations for the harvest-celebrations. The women made corndollies and wreaths of such plants that bore berries. Baskets of apples and mushrooms were lined up next to loaves of bread baked from this year’s wheat and barrels of ale brewed from this year’s barley. One evening I took the two silver offer-bowls from the large chest and polished them with fine sand and soured milk until the relief of Odin and his ravens sparkled in the fire-light.

  On the appointed day those of our freemen who had farms of their own joined the rest of the household. They all brought their own offerings and I led the procession of freemen, servants and thralls to the copse of oak-trees where ancestors and gods received homage at the prescribed times of the year. As we left the house, singing and in high spirits, I saw Ansgar, Lydia and the rest of the small flock of Christians gather in the yard. They said their prayers in voices loud enough to present a challenge. Some of my people shouted at them to be quiet and Old Ake shook his fist. They took no notice. The little monk was getting far too confident. I decided to speak to him again about the limits to my authority in the household and the challenge to my very right to run the farm. I sang louder and increased the pace of the procession to get away from the offensive noise.

  Among the trees the remnants of the midsummer sacrifice were still in evidence; wreaths of dead flowers and leaves, the bare bones and tattered fleece of the first lamb, empty baskets, some in their original places some torn and scattered by the wind or dragged round by animals. I held one bowl of ale and one of milk aloft and, walking round the copse, daubed the rocks and the base of the trees. The food was set down in the centre and I intoned the song of praise to Frey and Frigga. We sang to thank them for the harvest and ask them to keep our women, animals and soil fertile. We sang the song of farewell to the god Baldur, as he began his journey to the underworld and we implored him to return and bring another spring and summer with him. We opened a barrel and drank of the ale and ate of the food we had brought.

  When we arrived back at the farm, Brother Ansgar had erected a wooden cross in the yard. He and his followers stood clustered around it, singing their plaintive songs. This was too much for my people and their ale-fuelled anger broke free. Swords and axes are not carried to offerings but among shouts of fury knives were drawn. Some of the men began to move towards the group by the cross. I shouted at them to stop and tried to run in front to place myself between them and the Christians. Bard’s firm hand
round my arm held me back.

  ‘No Sigrid, there’s nothing you can do. They’re angry and they’re drunk.’

  The little group dispersed. Four thralls and Lydia’s three young children ran, leaving only two figures by the cross. Lydia stood with her arms spread out shielding the trembling Brother Ansgar, who had fallen to his knees.

  ‘Keep away!’ she screamed. ‘Keep away. Ansgar holy man.’ The angry mob surged forward, shouting and waving knives. I managed to tear my arm from Bard’s grip and ran past them to stand in front of Lydia.

  ‘There will be no killing among my people!’

  They didn’t hear me but kept advancing. I held up the two offerbowls I had just used in the sacrifice. The mob hesitated but they still had their weapons at the ready. They gathered in a half-circle in front of me.

  ‘Listen to me. There must be no taking of life on this sacred day. You have come from the place where we have sacrificed to the lifegivers. There must be no blood-shed.’

  There were some angry mutterings but after a while one of the freemen lowered his knife and said:

  ‘We have shared your sacrifice, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, but some of us are not sure of you. You still wear that thing next to Thor’s hammer.’ He pointed to the cross Freydis had given me. I unthreaded it from my neck-chain.

  ‘You are right I should not wear this.’ I held it up and folded the top bit so it had only three arms. ‘Look the cross turns into Thor’s hammer. Do not doubt me. Have I not led you in the ancient rites? Have we not shared the offerings with our gods?’

  ‘So why do you keep these offspring of trolls? Why do you allow them their vile practice?’

  ‘Brother Ansgar saved my life. I cannot…’

  I was interrupted by a snort of incredulity. Swein Threefingers had a weak head for ale and now he slurred:

  ‘You’re telling us that wretch in skirts saved you?’

  Bard shook him by the shoulder. ‘That’s enough!’

  The next to give voice to her resentment was Brita.

  ‘And anyway, what about the rest? Their worship will bring down the anger of the Aesirs, crops will fail, animals will be barren.’

  Bard glared at her but she ignored him. I turned to her:

  ‘The others are my thralls. They work for me. They work alongside you. They have just helped bring in the best harvest for many years. You said so yourselves.’ A murmur of uncertainty worked its way through the crowd. But Brita had not finished:

  ‘And her,’ she pointed at Lydia. ‘We don’t understand why you haven’t got rid of her. She took your place and now, look at what she’s getting away with. There’s been no punishment, nothing. I have known you since you were a child, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, and I’ve never seen you let anyone get the better of you before.’

  Her words stung. The time had come. I must show I was strong. I must be the undisputed mistress. I turned to Lydia and, in a low voice so only she could hear, I whispered with all my pent up venom:

  ‘How did Ingefried die, Lydia? Do you know the punishment for a thrall who kills?’ She drew a rasping breath. Her face turned as white as a dead man’s skull. In one slow movement she fell to the ground in front of me. She kissed the hem of my dress and cried in a voice full of fear and remorse:

  ‘Forgiveness! Please, forgiveness!’

  In the silence which followed, even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Then a confused murmur grew to excited chatter which Bard broke by cheering. They all joined in as one. Nobody knew what had passed between me and Lydia but they could all see her power was broken. Trembling with relief, I took my bitter-sweet victory. My suspicions had been proved true. Lydia had a hand in Ingefried’s death. I turned and led the way inside. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bard pick up Lydia and bring her and Ansgar. A couple of lads pointed to the cross and Bard nodded. The pieces were later used for firewood.

  ‘Tonight is not the time for judgement. Tomorrow I shall hold court,’ I explained to the household. They accepted and, amongst much whispering and talking, prepared their beds. I gave orders for Ansgar to be tied to one of the benches and for Lydia to be tied up and left in the bath-house. When all was quiet, I slipped out and went down to her. She sat shivering on the stone shelf but when she realised it was me, she got up and knelt on the floor in front of me.

  ‘Forgiveness.’

  ‘The truth!’ I stood above her fighting the impulse to run her through with my dagger. She fell silent.

  ‘The truth!’ I kicked her. She fell and wriggled away from me. ‘Speak, you vermin!’

  ‘I no kill! No,no.’

  ‘What did you give her?’ She moaned and writhed on the floor. I bent over her. ‘I’ll kill you here and now if you don’t tell me.’

  She could hear I meant it and started to cry.

  ‘Hauk good to me. Then you come. For me bad. You take Hauk from me. I want hurt you, I make your baby mine.’ She snivelled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. ‘I never hurt your baby.’

  ‘What about Ingefried?’ I said and shook her.

  ‘Ingefried stop me taking Kveldulf. I give herb to make tired, then I take baby. She too, too tired. But,’ her voice rose to a shriek: ‘I no kill, never, never. She go, she just go. One day not here.’ I dragged her outside and in the faint light from the moon I tried to see in her face if she was lying.

  ‘What did you say to Kjeld?’ She squirmed. Her eyes slid away to avoid mine.

  ‘No say to Kjeld.’ I drew my dagger and pointed it to her neck. She whimpered: ‘No, please, no. I tell. I say to Kjeld, she tired. I say, she old. I no say kill…’ Her voice died away.

  ‘You told him she was too old to work. That’s what you told him wasn’t it?’ She lowered her head.

  ‘Forgive,’ she whispered. ‘I do bad. But I no want her to die.’

  I was to preside over my first court. I had realised that, to satisfy the freemen, I would have to punish Ansgar as well as Lydia. The other Christians were regarded as poor, misguided creatures and it would be sufficient to mete out hard labour, less food and a beating.

  I sent Thorgunn and Olvir with the younger children to look for mushrooms in the woods. They took Lydia’s three children as well. Some argued that the oldest, a girl of six, should stand trial but I ruled that any child under eight was not responsible and had been made by their parents to take part. The household arranged themselves on the benches along the walls. Some looked feverish in anticipation of the punishment they hoped would be given. There was always the possibility of settling old scores and to rejoice in the misfortune of enemies. Many, myself included, saw the opportunity for revenge as well as justice.

  The accused were brought one by one to stand in front of me. I sat, alone, behind the table. I dealt out mild punishments to the thralls as I had decided beforehand and nobody argued against it. I was relieved. I saw no advantage in making more enemies by being too harsh on them.

  Then Brother Ansgar was brought in front of me. Pale and puffy-eyed he clutched his cross to his thin chest.

  ‘Brother Ansgar, you are accused of bringing the farm into danger by your open denial of the Aesirs, the very gods who ensure our safety and prosperity. You have broken my trust. You were given safe conduct and a place to follow your religion. But that was not enough for you. You staged a ceremony to challenge our harvest sacrifice and to insult our gods. I kept you safe and you defied my authority. I recognise my blood-debt to you. I will spare your life but you are banished from Swanhill.’ Here several voices offered dissent.

  ‘He must die or the gods will take their revenge on all of us.’

  The monk began to shake and whisper his prayers.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘a life for a life. He saved mine. I can not take his.’

  ‘But,’ said Ake the Old, who had been listening with his hand cupped round his ear, ‘that cancels out the debt then, doesn’t it?’

  I had to admit it did and I felt a great fear for the little monk. I knew I must get him away from Swanh
ill and find him a place of safety.

  Lydia looked around her as she was dragged in. If she was searching for a friendly face, she was disappointed. I had not realised how much the others had resented it, when Kjeld took the keys from Thorgunn and handed them to her. She was just a thrall and she was put in charge of the household, above the free women, above Thorgunn. He must have done it because he knew she was very capable. Even I had to admit she was. But he had done her no favour.

  I repeated the same accusation Brother Ansgar had been charged with. Lydia listened. She seemed to have recovered from last night and stood with her back straight and her head held high. But her hands trembled as she clutched her string of beads with the cross. She must have spent the night rehearsing what to say.

  ‘I Galician princess. I Kjeld’s woman. You must leave me alone.’ The hall filled with derisive laughter and jeers. I raised my hand for silence and was gratified when the household heeded my gesture.

  ‘You are a thrall belonging to Swanhill, nothing more. I deal with you as I please.’ Murmurs of approval spread along the benches. Lydia stepped forward, bent towards me and said in a low, ingratiating voice:

  ‘I give back your baby.’ She didn’t speak quietly enough. The women sitting closest heard her and passed it on in an angry whisper which grew to renewed clamour as others joined in. Brita raised her hand.

  ‘I wish to add to the accusation.’ I looked at her. ‘She also has taken advantage of her position to do less work and to let her children do less and have better food.’ Several others nodded and mumbled their support. I had no way of knowing whether this was true or not but it would make no difference. I went on to my real grievance:

  ‘Lydia, I also accuse you of causing Ingefried’s death. You gave her herbs that made her tired. You then told Kjeld she was too old to work. She knew that he would have her toppled over the edge of Angler’s Crag.’ I had to swallow hard to keep the tears away. I clasped my shaking hands in front of me on the table. When I continued my voice sounded frail and small in the silent hall. ‘She didn’t wait. She leapt to her death. You brought about the death of the woman who was a mother to me.’