Shieldmaiden Page 17

  ‘So they can be sold then, Ragnar, can’t they?’

  He hesitated. I thought he blanched and held my breath. He looked at the woman with the baby. I felt his heart beat through his jerkin. He looked at Kveldulf where he sat on Aisgerd’s lap, then at me. At last he spoke:

  ‘It shall be as you wish.’

  The woman cried and wailed in a foreign tongue when she was put on to a horse and led away. Brother Ansgar made his usual complaint about the evils of buying and selling people. He would not take part in the trade but in the end he agreed to go with Thora and Beorn to Cockermouth. They got a good price and returned safe. Ragnar showed no regrets. He presented me with the money the way a husband would compensate a wife for his transgressions.

  We kept the other thrall-woman. She was needed on the farm. She seemed resigned with her lot and did the work she was given to do. Of the men who came with Ragnar two were thralls. They too were welcome additions to the farm. We would be able to clear new fields and build a larger byre.

  The third man was a young Frankish warrior who had attached himself to Ragnar, half friend, half servant. His name was Lothar and his presence caused Thora to bleach her hair and wear her best clothes. She blushed each time his soft, brown eyes looked in her direction and she smiled as I had never seen her smile since I arrived at Buttermere.

  Ragnar had brought gold and silver coins from Neustria. He presented me, his mother and Thora with jewellery. Gifts were set aside for Gyda but it was not deemed safe to announce Ragnar’s arrival even to his own kin at Rannerdale. So the feast we held to welcome him home was enjoyed only by the household at Buttermere. But what a feast it was. We filled our stomachs with fresh game, smoked ham, cheese and the dried fruits and nuts from our stores. Ansgar brought provisions from Cockermouth, wheat was in short supply but he had bought some barley and we brewed strong ale. We no longer had to be careful with our supplies, we had money to buy what we needed. We just had to make sure people didn’t start asking where this newfound wealth came from. Ansgar had brought back some wine and I tasted this drink for the first time. I found it not to my liking but Ragnar had got used to it while fighting in Neustria. That evening he led me to the sleeping alcove and from then on we lived as master and wife of Buttermere farm.

  I knew each day might be our last together unless I could persuade Ragnar to join me on an expedition to Norway. But he had other ideas.

  ‘To your uncle, King Hakon, I’m an outlaw, in that land even more than here. I don’t have the protection of being of his blood. But I can get land in Neustria or Normandy. Why don’t we go there?’

  ‘Because this is my country. This is where I want to live. I want a pardon for you, I want to clear my father’s name and I want Kveldulf to have Becklund. And what will happen to Aisgerd and Thora without you? I don’t want you to be on the run for the rest of your life and only see you for a few days when you think it’s safe.’

  ‘I’m not on the run when I’m in Neustria. It’s a fair country. The soil is rich and the air warm.’

  ‘And there is constant fighting, so I still wouldn’t see much of you.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Lothar told Olvir and he told me. It’s true though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Olvir. He interferes too much for my liking. Who is the little rascal?’

  ‘He came with me from Becklund. I have taken him as my fosterson. Kveldulf is very fond of him.’

  ‘I’ve noticed. He’s also very possessive of Kveldulf, I hardly get to see my own son.’

  ‘No! I’m sure…’ I thought a bit. Maybe Ragnar was right.

  I joined Olvir when he went to fetch water from the beck. ‘I’m very happy to have Ragnar back, Olvir.’

  ‘Uhu.’

  ‘Is that all you have to say?’

  ‘Well, what else is there? Ragnar is back, you don’t need me anymore. Do you?’ His voice quavered and a drop of snot was forming on the tip of his nose. ‘Beorn thinks maybe you’ll send me…’ He stopped in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Send you where?’

  I sat down on a rock and pulled him to me. He sobbed against my shoulder and it took a while before he could answer.

  ‘To market.’

  ‘What? Olvir! I’d never do that. How could you believe it?’

  ‘You wouldn’t?’

  ‘No never. You’re my foster-son. I thought we decided that a long time ago. You shouldn’t listen to Beorn.’

  Olvir stopped sobbing but his little body was still tense.

  ‘I hate him.’ he hissed.

  ‘Look Olvir, Beorn is not unkind, he just likes to tease. This time he has gone too far. I’ll…’

  ‘No, not silly old Beorn…him, your Ragnar.’

  ‘Why do you hate him?’

  ‘You won’t want me around and I’ll be all alone.’

  ‘Olvir, I’ll always need you to look after me and Kveldulf.’

  ‘He doesn’t like me to be with Kveldulf.’

  ‘He’s Kveldulf ’s father. It would make me very happy if you helped Ragnar and Kveldulf to get to know each other. I’d like Ragnar to find out what a good lad you are as well.’

  He wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked at me from under his unkempt fringe. A reluctant little smile spread across his face.

  18.

  With Ragnar back I became aware of my appearance. I stopped wearing men’s leggings and tunic and got out my women’s wear. I joined Thora in making soap to bleach our hair and we helped each other fashioning it into plaited coils under our head-dresses. While we indulged in these female pursuits Thora spoke of her life.

  ‘I was jilted. The Irish chieftain, who was betrothed to me, turned me down when my father was outlawed. I have hated this place so much but there seems no escape. Mother would not allow any of the housekarls to woo me – not that I liked any of them much, but they were all leaving for other places and I would have gone with any of them just to get away.’ She stopped combing my wet hair and we changed places. ‘Sigrid, I’m sorry Gyda and I weren’t welcoming to you when you arrived. I’m sure Gyda feels the same. I know she’s grateful to you for arranging her marriage. Mother would never have agreed if you hadn’t persuaded her.’

  I wasn’t sure I had done much to help poor Gyda but I decided I might as well take the credit.

  We had some weeks of harmony. Ragnar took charge of the work on the farm. I spent more time indoors, cooking and weaving. I still had no great skill in either of these. I had always preferred the work outdoors. But it felt different when it was for my man and my family and, for the first time in my life, I made an effort to keep the snags out of my weft, to make sure the bread wasn’t burnt and the servants took the salted fish from the oldest barrel first. In the evenings we listened to tales of Ragnar’s and Lothar’s adventures. It would have been so easy to leave things like that. We didn’t receive many visitors at Buttermere, the house of an outlaw is shunned by most, but whenever there were signs of anyone approaching Ragnar and Lothar went into hiding with all their armour at hand. I was always aware of the need to watch out, taking care it would not become known that Ragnar had returned. I shared the sleeping-alcove with him as if we were married but how could we be? You cannot celebrate bride-ale with a man who is not supposed to be there. Then there was our child. Ragnar would not be able to show up at the Allthing to acknowledge Kveldulf as his son. My child would remain a bastard for as long as his father had a price on his head.

  With more workers on the farm Ragnar and I had more time to be together. He would come in the house and, amongst much laughter and comments from the household, carry me outside to the waiting horses. I treasured those outings, not just because of the love-making but because we had time to talk. Little by little I tried to convince Ragnar the journey to Norway was worth the risk.

  ‘Hakon and his men have never seen you. You could travel in disguise.’

  ‘Sigrid, not that again. I am a Manx warrior. I do not sneak about dressed up as anything
else.’

  ‘You’re sneaking about now, hiding all the time.’

  ‘That’s different. Come here and stop talking nonsense.’ He pulled me close and I was soon lost in his kisses.

  One evening, when we all sat by the fire, I persuaded Aisgerd to tell us the story of when the god Thor dressed in women’s clothing to enter the giants’ land and regain his hammer. We all laughed as Thor swung Mjolner and split the head of Thrym, the foolish giant who thought he would marry Freya but found Thor’s angry face under the bridal veil. I felt Ragnar’s eyes on me all through the story-telling. He knew why I had wanted that story. He didn’t laugh with the rest of us.

  ‘He had to get it back really, didn’t he,’ said Olvir, ‘’Cause he needed it to fight the giants or they’d get the better of him.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And he’d have to run and hide every time they came to Asgard.’

  Ragnar was quiet the rest of the evening and later when we retired to our bed he sighed.

  ‘I know what you’re going to say, Sigrid. If the Aesirs can go about in disguise then so can I. But …’

  ‘I’m not asking you to put on a dress, Ragnar. Just use another name. And think how good it will be when you can take your place among the other Norse, a free man on your own land.’ He nodded and sighed. I pressed on: ‘Your son no longer a bastard. Although for that you’d have to marry me, of course.’

  ‘Steady on now, that’s taking things a bit too far.’ He laughed and ducked under the covers to avoid my fist. I smiled. I knew then I would have my way.

  In spring the sun returned to us and brought fresh growth. I took the golden neck-ring I had removed from Ragnar’s thrall-woman to Beorn the Lame. He had some skills with blacksmithing and from the twists of gold he fashioned four simple arm-rings. One, a small one, I gave to Olvir. The other three I sent with Olvir and Ansgar to Rannerdale with a message to be ready to join me after the spring ploughing was finished. I decided not to tell them about Ragnar until we were all ready to set off. I also decided not to tell anyone I was now certain another child was on the way. I was pleased, of course, but the news would give Ragnar another argument against our journey.

  One day in early summer Thorfinn, Anlaf and Ulf came riding in full armour to Buttermere. I was sent for from the meadow where a cow was having difficulty calving. I left Beorn in charge and went to get cleaned up. The farmyard echoed with the happy greetings of men who had not met for years. As I approached, the men from Rannerdale turned from Ragnar and knelt in front of me. Ragnar watched, puzzled at first, then he was outraged.

  ‘Since when do men of Manx pledge their swords to women? Thorfinn, you were my father’s man. You owe allegiance to me.’ Thorfinn stood to face Ragnar:

  ‘Your father is dead, Ragnar. I am released from my oath. Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter is no ordinary woman. She’s the granddaughter of King Harald Finehair. I fought alongside her at Brunnanburh. She is a great warrior and I have given her my promise of support. This is how it stands.’

  Ragnar went pale and left us. All eyes were on me. I couldn’t run after him. I was a ring-giver not a servant girl. But it was hard to watch him stride towards the horse-meadow when all I wanted was to call him and plead with him.

  Aisgerd appeared in the doorway and bade our guests to enter. Ale was served and servants rushed to prepare a meal. I left Thorfinn exchanging news with Aisgerd and went to look for Ragnar. He had saddled his horse and Lothar had brought him his armour but they seemed to be arguing. Thora stood with her hand on the stirrup.

  ‘At least say goodbye to your mother and your son,’ I heard her say. I looked round for Kveldulf.

  ‘Where is Kveldulf Ragnarson?’ I said. They all looked at me. Olvir, coming from behind the hall carrying an armful of firewood, shook his head.

  ‘I thought he was with Aisgerd.’ he said. He dropped the logs where he stood and ran towards the copse.

  ‘The brook,’ screamed Thora and ran off. I gathered my skirts and headed for the lake. Behind me I heard the household calling out, their voices growing fainter as they spread out beyond the safety of the yard.

  I didn’t stop to remove my shoes but plunged into the water. The cold made me gasp and I slipped on the smooth pebbles. I waded between the rocks where Kveldulf liked to play. I could still hear the others, worry making their voices shrill and some on the edge of tears. Beorn got the small boat and, with Bjarne’s mother in the stern peering into the depths, he rowed along the shore. I looked under the long grass on the edge of the lake. I scratched my arms plunging them in among branches overhanging the water. The sunlight played cruel tricks against the waves. Time and again I thought I saw the pale face of my son under the surface. I cried and raged and pleaded with the gods. I promised a golden sacrifice if they returned my son to me. I knew I’d gone further than Kveldulf would have managed but I couldn’t stop. I was wet through, my dress was torn and I shivered from cold. But I was oblivious to everything except that I had lost my child.

  Then I heard Ragnar call:

  ‘Sigrid, Sigrid, I have found him.’ No words ever sounded so sweet. I clambered out of the water and saw Ragnar carrying our son in his arms. Behind him scurried Olvir and Bjarne.

  ‘He was in the dairy,’ said Ragnar. ‘He’d followed the damned dog.’

  Kveldulf was laughing and chattering. He clasped a squirming puppy to his chest.

  ‘Look Mummy! Tofinn bring Keluf puppy. Bad puppy run away.’ he said, ‘Keluf catched puppy.’

  Faint and trembling I put my arms round my man, my son and his little dog. I sobbed with relief. Ragnar told the boys to run back to the farm and tell everyone we had found Kveldulf. Then he set Kveldulf down and held me till I stopped shaking. We sat down on the grass and watched our son play. I put my hand on Ragnar’s.

  ‘Don’t leave us.’

  He looked at me.

  ‘Am I no longer the master in my own home, Sigrid?’

  ‘Ragnar you are the master of Buttermere farm but Thorfinn and the lads are free men. Thorfinn has a farm of his own. He is no longer a housekarl. He is his own master.’

  ‘That’s not what it looked like.’

  ‘It was their choice. Thorfinn promised support for me to seek pardons for you and my father. The lads just want adventure. Thorfinn made some verse, you know how he does when he’s in his cups, and they think I’m a warrior-queen.’

  ‘So you did fight in that battle?’

  ‘I didn’t intend to. I went there to look for you.’

  ‘Me! Why?’

  ‘Hauk was going to find you and kill you. I followed him and then… Oh Ragnar, there’s so much we haven’t talked about. What has happened has not been of my doing. I have been through danger, I lost my home. I have tried to keep your son safe and be a help to your mother. Don’t abandon us now.’

  He didn’t answer. He went to fetch Kveldulf and the puppy who had been chasing round and were straying too far. When he returned, he looked grim but held out his hands and helped me stand up. Then he put his son to ride on his shoulders and we walked back to the farm together. As we drew close he stopped, let Kveldulf take his puppy and walk ahead. A little smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘I suppose this is my punishment for bedding a shieldmaiden. Do you remember, Sigrid, at Becklund?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I remember. You were better than me,’ I almost added ‘then’ but stopped myself in time.

  He smiled a proper smile and kissed me. Then he looked at me, his head tilted to one side.

  ‘Just tell me one thing now. These four years I thought Thorfinn dead by your hand. How come he’s here, alive? Have you compensated him for the time you brought him so close to Valhalla?’

  I took a deep breath. I had forgotten Ragnar knew.

  ‘He made it back to Buttermere, I don’t know how, neither does he. Aisgerd healed him but he has no memory of what happened.’

  ‘Are you going to tell him? What will happen if he remembers
? He seems affable enough now and he clearly thinks highly of you but he has a fearsome temper. He was known for it.’ Ragnar walked next to me. He didn’t see me shudder.

  In the evening we held a great feast and both ale and talk flowed freely. Ragnar was subdued. I think he was at once proud and resentful of my position. I took care to defer to him but I could not change what had been done and promised. Thorfinn got drunk and sentimental and spoke of the glorious days of raids and feasting. The young men hung on his every word and Aisgerd’s efforts to extract information about Gyda got scant interest. Thorfinn spoke of my exploits in the battle of Brunnanburh. Ansgar tut-tutted and shook his head.

  ‘All in the past,’ he kept muttering. ‘All different now. Why rake it up?’

  Lothar struggled to understand. His command of the Norse language was still hesitant. Olvir, who had appointed himself Lothar’s guide, helped explain to him. He had learnt enough Frankish to be able to translate and to add a few embellishments of his own. When the story turned to how I had slain the redheaded berserker, Lothar could not hide his amazement.

  ‘The Mistress Sigrid did that? A lady …’ he laughed and shook his head. Ragnar, grim-faced, got up and left the hall. I followed him outside.

  He went down to the lake and stood in the light of the halfmoon. He picked up pebbles and threw them into the water, one by one, as if there was something below the surface he tried to kill. When I joined him he growled like a wolf:

  ‘You’re showing me up. I’m a Manx warrior. Our women don’t try to be like men and behave like, like…’

  ‘So on Manx, who defends the farm if it is attacked when the men are away?’

  ‘Why, the men who have been left behind.’ The way he shrugged his shoulders made anger swell my chest.

  ‘Like who in this case? Who did you and your father leave to defend your family here in Buttermere?’ He edged away from me but I had gone too far to stop now. I grabbed his arm. ‘When the farm here was raided, who was around to defend it? Three raids! People killed, women raped, cattle stolen. Your mother and sisters could have done with their own swords and spears then.’