Shieldmaiden Read online

  I felt a stab to my stomach, fell to my knees and let out a groan of despair.

  ‘No sound, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter. It will bring down the fury of the Valkyries.’

  ‘The sun! Ragnarok!’ I raised my arm but he caught it.

  ‘Don’t point. The light guides the Valkyries. It must not be mocked or disturbed. It is not the final battle, not yet.’ He led me towards the house.

  ‘My children!’

  ‘Safe. They were brought inside so no light could descend and sever their heads from their bodies.’

  I shivered. Another stabbing pain tore through me. My second child asked to be born. I wondered what fate befell a child born under the light from the armour worn by Odin’s own shieldmaidens.

  As with my first birth, I struggled and suffered great pain. The sauna was fired up and Old Kirsten was sent for. She arrived with her granddaughter Kirsten and bemoaned the lack of fresh shepherd’s purse to deter evil spirits. She threw a handful of pine cones on the fire. They filled the air with a soothing scent of resin. In a brief moment between the birth-cramps I heard her ask my mother:

  ‘What have you given her so far?’

  ‘Silverweed and motherworth, small doses only. We keep very few strong herbs here.’ Old Kirsten nodded and asked her granddaughter:

  ‘So what would you do now?’

  ‘I would mix a small amount of rue with the white deadnettle.’ The girl answered promptly and Old Kirsten nodded again.

  ‘The Valkyries,’ I panted, ‘What will happen?’ Old Kirsten looked at me and pursed her lips.

  ‘Hmm. Let’s add some henbane. She may start raving but it will pass.’ She came over to me and looked between my legs. She pressed her dry, claw-like hands over my belly. ‘Ah, a breech birth. This is not good. I shall try to turn the baby but let’s get something to still you first.’ She waved Young Kirsten over.

  ‘Watch carefully. Put your hand here.’ They treated me like a slab of meat. Why did nobody listen to me? I cried out:

  ‘The Valkyries, are they still riding the sky? What will happen?’ The young girl put a hand on my forehead.

  ‘They are gone. It is almost midday. Try to be still. The Norns will weave the destiny of your child whether you worry about it or not.’

  The draught they gave me was as bitter as gall. I choked and coughed but was forced to drink. Then the walls began to sway and ripple. From the fire rose a cloud with red, glowing eyes, flared fiery nostrils and silver horns. Its hot breath filled me with the strength of a giant and together we roared the battle cry of the Norse: Odin, Odin. With my bare hands I fought a three-headed demon. He forced himself inside me and filled my belly with flames. They grew and grew and I screamed and I heaved and I pushed until it tore me apart and I sank into a whirlpool of blackness.

  When I woke I thought for a moment I was back at Swanhill, that time had reversed and I had just given birth to Kveldulf. The headache, the nausea, the cloying smell of blood, birth fluids and sick were the same. I tried to sit and winced. My cleft was on fire. I felt I would never be able to move again. I moaned and called out for Ragnar. Someone rose from the bench opposite. I strained to see.

  ‘Sigrid,’ my mother put an arm round my shoulders to support me, ‘you have another son, a healthy, strong boy. Drink this. No, don’t worry it is only shepherd’s purse to help staunch the blood. I have a poultice as well to put between your legs. It will sting at first but we must stop the bleeding.’

  She washed the sweat from my body and dressed me in a fine shift. Toki arrived and carried me to the house. I could not hold back my tears when the red, wrinkly little face of my baby emerged from the swaddling. I loved him more than my life but to the world he was just another bastard.

  Kveldulf was led up to my bed to see his baby brother. He was not impressed.

  ‘He’s too little. You said Keluf have brother to play with.’

  ‘He’ll grow. He’ll be a baby at first, then he’ll grow and you can play. Come and have a closer look.’

  He crawled on to the bed and snuggled up. He giggled.

  ‘He is suckling you just like the lambs! I did too, didn’t I? But I don’t any more.’

  I felt a little less sad. ‘Where is Olvir?’

  Nobody knew. One of the women left to look for him but returned alone.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘he was here when Old Kirsten brought the baby. I remember him having a good look when the baby was bathed. I had to squeeze past him to be able to see anything myself.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be back,’ said my mother, ‘rest now. I’ll wake you when he comes.’

  When I woke the hall was quiet save for the peaceful snores of the household. My baby rooted and I put him to my breast. Another greedy feeder, another brave little warrior. I was drifting off to sleep again, when there was a firm knock on the door. The servant closest got up and asked who disturbed the house so late. There was an answer and the servant called out:

  ‘It’s just Olvir. Where have you been, child? We were out looking for you. You’ll be in trouble again.’ He pulled the bolts aside to let Olvir in.

  When the others heard him they turned, muttered and prepared to go back to sleep. When the door swung open it was not Olvir who entered. Four tall, looming figures in bulging cloaks pushed their way inside. Their faces below the rims of their helmets were hidden under pieces of cloth. One made his way over to Toki and held a knife to his throat. Another threw a shawl over my mother’s shoulders and pinned her arms to her body. The other two stood back to back, their swords drawn, in the middle of the hall.

  ‘Stay where you are. Nobody will harm you. Despite our weapons, we have come in peace.’

  ‘Ragnar!’ I choked on a wave of tears and stretched out my arms. He removed his helmet and his disguise and embraced me.

  ‘I told you I would be here to claim this son as mine,’ he said and kissed my tear-stained face. ‘Where is the new little warrior?’

  I handed him the baby. He took it out of its swaddling and placed it carefully in his helmet. He held it up for all to see.

  ‘I am Ragnar Sweinson and this is my son.’ His voice broke and he cleared his throat. ‘My second son. And with you all as my witnesses I give him the name…’

  ‘Harald,’ I cried out, ‘please may we call him Harald!’

  He looked at me, mouth and eyes open wide. Then he smiled and said;

  ‘If it pleases you my brave shieldmaiden, he shall be named Harald Ragnarson. Now drink my friends, drink to the future of my new son!’

  A small figure, insufficiently disguised to hide the fact that it was Olvir, had waited by the door. Now he stepped forward with a pitcher of mead. He took it round for all to share in the birth-ale. Only Toki refused. My mother sighed but drank. Then Ragnar returned the baby to me and kissed me.

  ‘Odin, Thor and Frey guard you and our children till I return.’

  We clung to each other. He kissed the sleeping Kveldulf. Then they were gone.

  24.

  Kings have enemies and it seemed Hakon too had his fair share. Eirik and Gunnhild had champions who were ever on the alert, looking for an opportunity to prove their loyalty. Then there were the Danes. Between Hakon and Harald Gormson of Denmark old rivalries festered, both concerning land and family as Queen Gunnhild was Harald Gormson’s half-sister. Within Norway itself there were chieftains who felt slighted and usurped and who could not be trusted. At Nidaros we were ever vigilant but Ragnar’s appearance showed how vulnerable we were to surprise.

  When they left and the door slammed shut the hall filled with voices, my mother calling down the curse of all the saints on Ragnar, Toki swearing and shouting at the servants, excited chatter from the women. Toki rushed to the door. It was barred from outside. He ordered the men to help him use a trestle for a battering ram but was stopped by my mother.

  ‘They will have horses waiting. It’s dark. By the time you’re through they will be long gone.’

  Only
Ragnar had revealed his face and spoken but the other three must have been Thorfinn, Anlaf and Ulf and helping them, bringing them news, bringing them to me – Olvir. So that’s what his long, lonely runs had been about. This is what he needed mushroomcourage for. What would happen to him now? We had all seen him. He had answered the servant at the door. Toki knew he had led Ragnar to us. Would he ever be able to return? Ulf and Anlaf had not spoken and not been recognised, they were safe. Ragnar and Thorfinn were able to find shelter and survive on what the land gave. But Olvir was just a child. Where could he find shelter?

  I was questioned repeatedly by Toki about Ragnar but in the end he had to accept that I didn’t know where he was. I did my best to persuade him that Ragnar was no threat to the King or the Jarl but for several days I saw groups of housekarls set off to search for him and his mysterious companions. Ulf and Anlaf had been barred from my mother’s house from the start and were not known by anyone there except my mother. She must have realised who the companions were and I was grateful she kept her knowledge to herself. One day while I rested and the household were busy with their various occupations, Old Kirsten’s daughter brought me my midday meal.

  ‘Olvir is with my mother,’ she whispered, even though nobody was within earshot. ‘He can stay there as long as he needs to. I’ll bring them news and he’ll carry it to your man. Oh Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, how brave he is, your man, and how he must love you. All the women are talking about it.’

  The midwinter celebrations at Lade were lavish but I was prevented from participating as the Jarl met with other chieftains in the temple to sacrifice to the Aesirs in the grand, old style and I had to keep up the pretence of being a Christian. I heard rumours that the King had problems persuading local chieftains to support him because he refused to eat of the sacrificial meat and when he drank of the mead he made the sign of the cross over the horn. The Jarl had tried to persuade him to compromise and after much debating he had agreed to eat a small piece of horse-liver. I would have gladly eaten his share and given my own horse to Odin as well if it would help keep Ragnar safe.

  The Jarl and the King were away for several days and I had more freedom to move around. I walked down to Nidaros hoping to catch sight of Olvir. But he was never there and I didn’t want to draw attention to Old Kirsten by visiting her hovel. Nobody did. If she was wanted she was sent for.

  Nidaros was a busy port and trading post clustered around the mouth of the river Nid. It provided a good, deep harbour lined with wooden walkways and with piers sticking out from it like piglets suckling a sow to provide landing stages for the ships. The traders and craftsmen had houses and gardens all along the harbour and I enjoyed walking there, listening to them bartering and gossiping. I asked Toki why Jarl Sigurd had his farm on the Lade peninsula instead of at Nidaros.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘Nidaros is the domain of the King. That was established by Harald Finehair, your grandfather, when he conquered the land and Jarl Sigurd’s father agreed. The low-lying area behind the trading post is used for the assembly of the Allthing and that is sacred ground not to be claimed by any man for himself.’

  ‘But Lade has no proper harbour, just the beach.’

  ‘Ah, but you see, the Lade peninsula has good farmland and grazing, enough for the Jarl to bestow land on his many faithful followers. And then there are many other beaches dotted around the peninsula where they have ships so in times of unrest they can be sent for to support the Jarl both on land and sea. Lade is not a bad place at all for a Jarl’s court.’

  Kveldulf accepted that his father had gone away. He knew from the other children that fathers did so from time to time. He took longer to get used to not having Olvir around. During the day he was happy and busy but at night he complained and shed bitter tears. I missed Olvir too. I was comforted to think he would be safe with Old Kirsten and her granddaughter. Those who asked were told he was her apprentice. I gathered he used skis to move across the snow-covered ground and, throughout the winter, he met up with Ragnar and Thorfinn at different hiding places to exchange news. Old Kirsten’s daughter brought little presents from Ragnar to Kveldulf, carved animals – so many he had enough for a whole farmyard. I couldn’t tell Kveldulf the presents were from his father, he was still too young to keep a secret. Ragnar would know that and I felt he sent the keepsakes as messages for me to let me know we were in his thoughts.

  My longing for Ragnar was like a constant ache and the worry for him gnawed at my insides. I was watched and followed everywhere. I had no one to confide in except my two faithful karls, Ulf and Anlaf. As I recovered from the birth I joined them in weapons practice and it eased my mind to have to concentrate on the physical exertion of sword-play and the vigorous throwing of the spear. When I was overcome by sadness I walked through the pineforest behind Lade, up on to the ridge. I sat on a rock with Harald in my arms staring out to sea. In clear weather I could see, past the outer peninsula, the vastness of the ocean. There beyond the horizon were England, Cumbria and Becklund. I wondered whether I would ever be able to return there.

  Sometimes I envied Ragnar and Thorfinn their life out in the mountains, free from the worries and cares of daily life on the farm. I longed to join them, to break out of my restricted world in my mother’s house and breathe the clear, cold air of freedom. But I had my children to love and protect and I could go nowhere.

  Soon after Kveldulf turned four we enjoyed a warm beautiful spring. The animals had been moved to grazing on the slopes above the settlement, waiting for the weather to warm up sufficiently for them to make the migration to the high mountain meadows. Six full moons had come and gone since Harald’s birth and he was greedy for solid food to help his teething. He could sit up and was trying to crawl. Kveldulf was disdainful but the rest of the household were enchanted. I thought every now and then of how the Valkyries rode across the sky before he was born and I wondered if it meant he would meet with a bad end. Two weeks after his birth a fire broke out in one of the warehouses in Nidaros and I tried to be reassured that this was the event foretold by the lights. All through the spring, whenever something bad happened, I felt it took away the threat to my baby and his future. I saw the lights again that winter, several times but never so clear, never so brilliant and threatening as the night before Harald was born.

  I decided it was almost summer and cleaned my fur-lined cloak in cow’s urine to keep it for next winter. As I draped it over a bush to air, I became aware of a commotion from the direction of the harbour. I saw servants hurry into the house. Kveldulf rode up on Morning Star.

  ‘Mummy, there are some ships. I think they are emn…eme… enemy. Anlaf says I have to hide!’

  Fear for my children gripped me like an eagle’s claw. My mother came out shouting for Toki. My heartbeat quickened as I watched frantic activity break out all round me. My mother’s household seemed to have rehearsed this. They emerged from the house with food, bedding and the chest of valuables. Toki brought horses and within a short time the women and children of the household were ready to move – all except me. My fear had transposed into determination and, while Toki had his back to me, I kissed my children and entrusted them into the care of my mother. She tried to argue but not for long and I thought there was a measure of pride in her voice as she said:

  ‘You are your father’s daughter. I can’t do anything about that now. God go with you.’

  There was no time to get upset and think about whether I was doing the right thing. Like the mother-wolf I followed my instincts to fight whoever was threatening my young. I changed into tunic and leggings, un-wrapped my helmet and strapped Dragonclaw to my side. I collected the spear, bow and arrows I had stashed away in the rafters. Ulf and Anlaf arrived in full armour. Anlaf brought the light, lime-wood shield I had used for sword-practise. I saw riders set off to muster the Jarl’s supporters from around the Lade peninsula. The King and Jarl Sigurd were on the move, surrounded by their housekarls and with their banners fluttering in the breeze. I cannot deny th
at, as we set off towards the harbour, I felt a surge of excitement.

  I counted nine sails. The wind was in their favour. White foam sparkled where the keels cut into the waves. The sails were taut and full and in the prows open-mouthed dragons snarled. We followed the King’s banner down towards the piers and the trading settlement of Nidaros. The Jarl and his hird were on the beach further around the bay. Two of his war-ships were pulled up there and warriors were already struggling to drag them off the sand and into the shallow water.

  King Hakon’s ships were in the fiord. There were three of them and these were launched to meet the attack. Seven old knorrs were tied together to form a barrier across the mouth of the river and protect the piers and store-houses of the town itself. But there were further piers outside of this barrier and that’s where we headed for. The King’s housekarls stood ready to form a shieldwall around him. I could see some of them popping the dried mushrooms in their mouths chewing and spitting. One or two were beginning to foam about the lips. Despite Hakon’s strict Christian rule over his household, I heard as many invocations of Odin and Thor as of Christ and I reached inside my tunic and pulled out my own Thor’s hammer amulet. This was no time to put doubt in the minds of the Aesirs. I needed their protection and had to show that I kept their faith.