Shieldmaiden Page 22

  It was a relief when Mother said it was time to return to her house. We made our way between the trestle tables and at the lower end of the hall Ulf and Anlaf rose to greet us. They looked like they had just arrived. Drizzle still coated their clothing in fine droplets. I told them to finish their meal before joining me. Back at the house the serving women had fed Kveldulf and were trying to get him to go to bed.

  ‘Keluf want Olvir.’ He looked at me with accusing eyes and trembling lower lip.

  ‘I thought he was with you, here.’

  The servants shook their heads. He had left with me and Mother.

  ‘So he may still be in the hall.’ Mother turned to Toki. ‘Please see if you can find him there.’

  ‘No, I’ll go.’ I rose but my mother pulled me back. She held my arm until Toki had left.

  ‘You need to understand that Toki is not just my servant, he is my jailor too.’ I thought at first I had misheard her. She cleared her throat. ‘Sigrid, you may find that Hakon holds it against you that not only did your father break his oath to his king but your brother Steinar has run off to join his enemies.’

  ‘Steinar!’

  ‘Yes, the coward has turned hero. Word has it he has sworn to avenge your father’s death. I am watched at all times, in case he seeks me out. We are all under suspicion. Hakon believes we’re all capable of seeking revenge.’

  ‘And are you?’ I whispered.

  She didn’t answer. She looked around at her household. Then her eyes held mine for a few breathless moments.

  ‘How would that help?’

  Olvir was not in the hall. No one remembered seeing him there that evening. I riled Toki until he allowed me out, in the company of a couple of servants, to look for him. As I stepped out into the fine drizzle Ulf and Anlaf joined me. They had been barred from entering the house but had taken up position by the door in case I needed them. They had last seen Olvir playing hnefatafl with a visiting Northumbrian trader, but it had been much earlier in the afternoon. I knew something must have happened. Olvir would never leave Kveldulf like that. We searched in ever wider circles, lighting our way with torches and calling his name.

  ‘He likes to wander down to the harbour and chat to people. Maybe we should look there,’ said Anlaf.

  ‘But this late?’

  ‘I hope nothing…’

  Anlaf didn’t need to finish. I was distraught and prepared to search the whole of Norway and beyond. As I turned towards the harbour, my mother’s serving woman stopped me.

  ‘You are over-tired, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter. Think of your unborn child. Come back and rest. Your karls can go faster without you.’

  Anlaf and Ulf soon returned, carrying a bedraggled Olvir. He was wet through, pale and hollow-eyed and his clothes and face bore streaks of vomit. He couldn’t speak, just kept closing his eyes and making retching noises.

  ‘We found him at the start of the track to the harbour,’ said Ulf. ‘I don’t understand how we missed him before. I’m sure we must have passed him. Looks like he was suddenly overcome by sickness. Strange. No one else is sick. Not that I know of anyway. Here you are, little mite.’ He put Olvir down on a bed and ruffled his hair. ‘Maybe he had too much to eat. He has a way of getting the women to feed him better than the rest of us.’

  I bent down next to him and while stroking Olvir’s cheek I whispered to Ulf.

  ‘Be careful, watch out, be my eyes and ears.’

  Olvir opened his eyes and muttered: ‘No, that’s me. That’s what I am.’

  I shushed him. Then, in a loud voice, I thanked Ulf and Anlaf and told them to get some rest.

  Olvir threw up several times in the night. I sat with him, holding his hand while he slept and supporting his head when he spewed. The next morning one of the serving women brought her mother who was a wise woman. Old Kirsten hobbled through the door, bent and gnarled like an old oak. She brought her granddaughter, also called Kirsten, a girl of eleven who lived with her.

  ‘So where is the sick child?’ Old Kirsten blinked as her peppercorn eyes swept the room. Toki, probably annoyed at not being consulted, tried to shoo her away.

  ‘We don’t need witchcraft here. I shall ask the priest to attend the boy. He needs prayers, not heathen hocus-pocus.’

  ‘This is not a question of religion, Toki,’ said my mother. ‘We shall ask the priest to pray, of course we shall, but Kirsten knows more than anyone how to use herbs to cure illness. We need her help as well as the Lord’s mercy to get Olvir well.’

  The old crone showed her empty gums in a smirk and was led to Olvir’s bed. She bent over him, studied his pale features and stroked his damp brow.

  ‘Show me what he has brought up.’ I looked around.

  ‘I don’t think…’

  ‘Yes, I saved it. Here.’ Old Kirsten’s daughter brought a vilesmelling pail from outside. Old Kirsten sniffed it, felt it and put some on the tip of her tongue.

  ‘Hmm, I see,’ she muttered. ‘So that’s how it is.’ She made her granddaughter smell and taste the vomit as well and whispered to her. The girl’s eyes became round and her mouth opened. Then Old Kirsten turned to us. ‘Ladies, I need to talk to you.’

  Mother and I sat her down away from the servants. She looked at us for several moments before she spoke.

  ‘The child has been poisoned. Pink toadstool. It’s treacherous. Small amounts will make the warrior brave but too much can send you to the next world. The boy will live. Give him a draft made of dried chamomile to calm his stomach. He will sleep for a long time now. When he recovers, he needs building up. Nourishing food, of course, strong broth from marrow-bones mixed with egg and milk. Give him the dried leaves of wood avens and nettle pounded with warm water, add chamomile too. Can you get those things? If you don’t have them, send my daughter to fetch some from me.’

  I nodded and looked at my mother. She seemed as stunned as I was. Echoing my thoughts, Old Kirsten continued:

  ‘The question of who may wish to poison a young child is for you to consider. I may be able to help you but not with herbs. It takes other powers and ceremonies, you may not agree with.’ She pointed at the crosses on our neck-chains.

  23.

  ‘Where were you?’ I held a spoon-full of steaming broth to Olvir’s mouth. He took a sip and swallowed.

  ‘Don’t remember.’ He leant back and closed his eyes. Three days had passed and he was still weak but on the mend. Poisoned. I fought back my tears. Who would want to harm Olvir?

  ‘Did anyone give you anything to eat?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ He thought a while. ‘One of the traders gave me a drink.’

  ‘Which trader?’

  ‘Don’t know. Maybe the one I beat at hnefatafl. Oh yes I remember it now. He gave me a drink and then he wanted me to come onboard but I ran away. I didn’t like him.’

  A trader trying to poison Olvir in revenge for defeat at a boardgame? No. To be able to abduct him and sell him? A boy his age would fetch a good price. But there were better ways to make him drowsy than pink toadstool. And why risk abducting a child from the harbour with so many people around? Still, I had to accept it for now.

  ‘You must take care. I need you and Kveldulf does.’

  His eyes still closed he nodded. As I rose to leave him, I heard him heave a trembling sigh.

  ‘Olvir, what is the matter?’ He turned his face to the wall.

  ‘Nothing.’

  The knorrs had left the previous day and my mother and I discussed with Toki how best to proceed with our suspicion against the trader.

  ‘But I don’t understand it,’ he said. ‘These are well regarded men, regular visitors to Nidaros. Why would they risk their reputation by killing a child? What in the name…’ He looked behind him. ‘I wish you wouldn’t sneak up like that, Olvir!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I heard you talk. I’m not sure now. Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe I dreamt.’

  I could see Toki’s patience was about to run out, and intervened.


  ‘Are you feeling strong enough to come and sit outside, Olvir?’

  He nodded. Drizzle had given way to the pale sun of early autumn. I found a seat by the main cook-house.

  ‘You have never lied to me, have you Olvir? You are one person I can always trust to tell me the truth.’ I heard him sniffle. ‘I do wish I knew what really happened to you. It wouldn’t be a very good idea to get all the king’s men looking for a murderer if…’

  ‘Oh Sigrid, please, I didn’t mean…’

  I put my arm round him. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Olvir, someone gave you a poisoned drink. You could have died. You must tell me who it was.’

  ‘It wasn’t anyone.’

  ‘Don’t tell any more lies. I know you were given toadstool. Tell me who.’

  ‘I did it myself.’

  I felt like life itself drained from my body. My arm dropped from Olvir’s shoulder. I closed my eyes, struggling with the thought that my foster-son, my faithful companion, had tried to kill himself.

  ‘Why, Olvir? Why?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. Please Sigrid, don’t be angry.’

  Angry, I thought, yes maybe that’s what I should be. But instead tears blurred my vision and the cold hand of misery squeezed my belly.

  ‘Why did you want to kill yourself ?’

  ‘I didn’t. I took too much by mistake. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me, you don’t know how dangerous toadstool is?’

  ‘No, yes, no I do know, but…’ He took my hand and held it against his cheek. It was wet. I wiped his tears and then my own.

  ‘Where did you find it?’ He sat silent with lowered head. ‘Look at me, Olvir. Where did you find it?’ He didn’t move. I grabbed his head and turned him to face me. I had never had to do anything like this before. Olvir had never lied or been disobedient. ‘Tell me! Tell me immediately! Don’t lie to me!’

  ‘I took some from Thorfinn. Please, don’t tell him, please!’

  ‘You took some. You stole!’

  ‘Only a little in case I needed it.’

  ‘What do you mean, need it? Why should you need the mushroom at all?’

  ‘Please Sigrid, I’ve said I’m sorry. I don’t feel well. Promise you won’t tell Thorfinn or Ragnar. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone to know.’

  ‘Why did you need the mushroom, Olvir? Answer me.’ The delay told me another lie was on the way.

  ‘I didn’t really need it. I just wanted to know what it felt like. I’m sorry. I must have taken too much or something.’

  I leant back against the wall. Olvir was nine years old, bright and inquisitive. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he had just been experimenting. But then…

  ‘Why did you lie about the trader?’

  He half-turned and gave me a sideways glance. Calculating. This was not the Olvir I knew. What was going on with the child?

  ‘I said it ’cause he’s a nasty man. He cheats.’

  ‘Who did he cheat? How do you know?’

  ‘He cheats at hnefatafl. I caught him. I saw and when I told on him he tried to hit me.’

  This sounded plausible enough but I was still uneasy. We sat in silence for a while but I couldn’t regain the usual feeling of comfort and trust between us.

  When we returned inside Toki’s voice stabbed like an icicle: ‘The boy has uttered slanderous lies against a respected trader. How do you intend to punish him?’ I shook my head.

  ‘He has confessed and apologised. I know he’s very ashamed.’

  ‘He needs a beating.’

  ‘I don’t beat my children. I was never beaten nor were my brothers nor will my children be.’

  ‘It is the Christian duty of a parent to chastise their errant children until they learn obedience. And that duty extends to servants and thralls. The lad must be taught a lesson. He’s far too confident and familiar for a thrall.’

  ‘He’s my foster-son. He may be born of a thrall-woman but…’ I had never given Olvir his freedom. I could have done it at the Allthing but I was too full of my own concerns then. So he was a thrall.

  ‘Toki is right.’

  My mother took charge. I had to accept that, in her house, she held the right to pass judgement. He was the son of her thrallwoman so Olvir belonged to her not me. As Toki led him outside Olvir looked away from me. My brave, faithful, little champion, I had failed to protect him and he deserved better.

  Autumn closed in, a sad, lonely time when nature itself seemed to grieve with me. I tried to keep busy but the occupations open to me were limited to the weaving and embroidering I had always found tedious. With too much time on my hands I fell into a deep melancholy. Accompanied by a serving woman and one of Toki’s underlings I took long walks in the surroundings of Nidaros. The child growing inside me was used as an excuse to make it clear to me that I was not free to wander too far and my horse was kept in the royal stables. My thoughts were heavy with self-reproach. I was separated from my love, my children would be bastards for all time and there seemed little hope of returning to Cumbria. I wondered where Ragnar and Thorfinn were and I wondered what had befallen Brother Ansgar who had so selflessly and pointlessly put himself in danger for my sake. I bitterly regretted my ill-temper with Hakon which had put us all in this hopeless situation.

  My mother was concerned about my low spirits and arranged for me to learn to read. She had for some time taken instruction from Toki and from the priest at Nidaros. The lessons were heavy with Christian preaching but I decided that to be able to read would be useful and anyway there was no point in upsetting her. Olvir joined us and learnt the Latin letters much faster than me. I was not entirely happy about the way he took an interest in the religious content but at least I knew where he was during our lessons.

  It was during one of our lessons that I understood that my mother had a very definite aim to her learning.

  ‘I wish to assist my brother Hakon in his efforts to bring the salvation of Christ to the heathens in this country. We have talked about establishing a holy community.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ I asked but before she could answer, Olvir was there, eager to show off.

  ‘It’s what Brother Ansgar belonged to. They all live together and pray and… um…and.’

  ‘It would be a community of men and women who wish to devote their lives to the service of Our Lord. I shall take holy orders as soon as it can be arranged and Hakon has agreed to gift a house and some land. From there the word of God will travel across the land.’ I looked at her eager face and felt I looked at a stranger.

  I was too tired and dejected to exercise full control over my children. It didn’t matter with Kveldulf. He was very happy at Nidaros. There were small horses from Shetland for him to ride. Anlaf made him a small bow and taught him to shoot. Ulf helped him train Striker, no longer a puppy, to fetch and obey commands. He began to speak like the Norwegians in a chirpy, sing-song accent. He played with the other children and many adults praised him for his fearless nature. My mother spoilt him worse than anyone, claiming this was her right. Even Toki seemed to approve of the lad. Hakon sometimes requested his attendance and this filled me with dread. Hakon had spent his childhood at Aethelstan’s court as a token of the friendship between the two kings. Might Hakon have similar plans to keep my son at his own court?

  Meanwhile I saw less and less of Olvir. My mother made arrangements to grant him his freedom and to have his status as my foster-son formally recognised. But she complained that he spent too much time at the hnefatafl board and had begun to play for money. He seemed to win more often than lose but this could make him enemies as well as friends and he was too young to exercise judgement in the matter. It was clear he ought to spend more time with other children.

  ‘The only thing he excels at is running.’ Toki’s voice indicated this was not among the most important skills for a Viking. ‘He goes for long runs alone and he shows g
reat endurance and speed but he must learn to use weapons as well or he’ll spend his life running away from battles.’ I spoke to Olvir about this and he promised to pay more attention to fighting-skills.

  ‘But remember Sigrid,’ he said, ‘I promised to win a race at the Allthing.’

  ‘I worry about you. Where do you go when you run out alone?’

  ‘Oh, all over the place.’ He shrugged his shoulders and sauntered off.

  Rain, darkened skies and a cold wind from the North made me spend more time indoors. I grew heavy but not even the approaching birth of my child could brighten my thoughts. Only in the evenings when we sat, warm and snug, around the fire and my mother told us stories, did I feel at peace. When I closed my eyes I could almost imagine myself a child again, safe and happy back at Becklund.

  A great storm brought heavy snow. It lasted for three days and, to avoid getting lost in the blizzard, the servants tied ropes between the houses, barns and byres. When the wind abated, we opened the door and cold, fresh air pushed its way in to replace the smoke-laden fumes. Outside everything was hushed and all contours in the landscape rounded and soft under the thick blanket of snow. Land, trees and buildings sparkled in the sunshine, blinding our indooreyes. Then children and dogs began chasing round and the air filled with happy voices. Skis and sledges were dug out from the stores. Olvir and Kveldulf got skis and made determined efforts to keep up with the other children, who had developed their skill over many years and laughed at the beginners.

  Then the Valkyries rode across the evening sky spreading fear, making people wonder what disaster was about to strike and who had brought it about. It is better to stay indoors, out of the way of their wrath but I was spellbound and couldn’t move. As the winged horses raced across the sky, there were brilliant reflections from the armour of the riders and there followed in their wake shimmering waves of green and golden lights. They filled the darkness above me. It was beautiful and dreadful. I trembled with awe. Then one of the servants came up behind me and touched my arm. I turned round to ask what he wanted. Behind him I saw the impossible. Far away behind the trees, where the sun had set many hours before, a pale red glimmer coloured the horizon. Yesterday’s sun was returning. Tomorrow’s sun was rising from the wrong place. The harbinger of Ragnarok, the final battle between Gods and giants, the chaos when the snake of Midgaard shall whip the sea into a giant wave, when the Fenriswolf will break its fetters and with fire burning in his eyes swallow the world.