Honour is All Page 3

  The flood of people squeezed onto the bridge over the River Ouse. Hemmed in on all sides I listened to broken pieces of conversation.

  ‘Mind my basket,’ snapped a woman at a small boy who’d been pushed against her. ‘There’s eggs in it. Tributes and dues, I don’t make enough money to feed the bairns as it is. Can’t afford to have them broken.’

  ‘Hard times for all of us,’ muttered a fat man driving a couple of heifers. ‘But it might be wise not to speak of it.’ Another shouted:

  ‘Look at that brute! Tie up your dogs Lady, if you’d be so kind.’ This directed at me.

  ‘Anlaf,’ I called, ‘put leads on Arrow and Lion and pay the man for his goose. Yes, we’ll keep it if it’s not too badly mauled.’

  ‘I’m not really allowed to trade on the bridge, Lady.’

  ‘Then accept the silver as a gift.’

  ’You fool,’ said the man’s wife, ‘take it and be thankful. We need all the silver we can get. Lady, thank you for that. There’s many wouldn’t do what’s right. Greed everywhere and so many dues and taxes.’ Her voice receded as she was carried by the throng away from me.

  There were so many people on the road, why did one in particular catch my eye? A man in merchant’s garb, short in stature but with a warrior’s bearing, self-possessed, walking as if the crush of humans and animals didn’t touch him. He looked at me for a fraction of a moment. He showed no sign of recognition. Or did he? Was there a flicker? He passed me. He was swallowed by the crowd. And then I remembered. Anlaf Sigfrithson, King of the Dublin Norse, also known as Cuaran, twice King of Jorvik, twice driven out by the Saxon King. He was back and wearing one of his disguises. Had he recognised me? Had he recognised North Wind, the horse he thought his and which I had taken back, or stolen from him, depending on your point of view?

  A warrior on horseback passed me and I heard him say to a companion:

  ‘The King can’t afford to go on like this. The merchants won’t stand for it and he’s losing support among the Jarls. If he …’ I lost the rest of his words but I had heard enough. Simmering resentment among the people, even the Jarls wavering in their loyalty to King Eirik. And Cuaran in Jorvik waiting, ready to take advantage. My uncle’s crown was unsafe. Did he know and what would he do about it? Was I riding straight into another war?

  We left the bridge and headed for the King’s court. The stone gate-house made my companions gasp but I noticed the makeshift repairs to the remains of the once powerful defensive walls. The King’s hall was surrounded by kitchens, store-houses and stables. Arrow and Lion, wasted no time in getting into a fight with the resident dogs. I nudged North Wind. He knew what needed doing and kicked out with sufficient accuracy to bring the miscreants to heel. I left Anlaf to sort out dogs and horses and made my way to the main hall.

  The two warriors standing guard by the door must have recognised me, one bowed and stepped aside the other just glared but didn’t challenge. The hall was impressive only in terms of size; wide and with its rafters tall enough to draw the smoke away. But it was bleak and chilly. The long central hearth had but a small fire burning on it, the few candles gave more smoke than light and the wall-hangings had seen better days. I had no time to dwell on these details because I walked straight into a row between Eirik and three men. One of them adjusted his fur-trimmed cloak to reveal a long tunic of soft, blue wool trimmed with ribbons woven in red and gold.

  ‘I would like to remind you,’ he hissed, ‘that we have other options. The …’ he stopped abruptly when he saw me. All four men turned to me and I bent my knee to Eirik.

  ‘Uncle, I have answered your summons and here I am.’ He looked confused but rallied. His smile, I thought, a reflection of relief to be interrupted rather than an expression of pleasure to see me. That was fair enough; I wasn’t particularly pleased to see him either.

  ‘Ah, Niece, welcome. The Queen will be pleased you’re here. I’ll get someone to show you the way.’ He clapped his hands together and a tired-looking servant emerged from the shadows at the end of the hall.

  My aunt, the feared seidir and, so people said, shapeshifter Gunnhild Gormsdaughter, had only too good a recollection of our last encounter.

  ‘Oh, there you are. My dear Niece, we meet again, as I knew we would. I was sorely disappointed last time that you decided not to take advantage of our kindness. I would go so far as to say your behaviour showed evidence of ingratitude as well as bad manners.’

  ‘I had a promise to keep. I was headed for Norway to find my mother.’

  ‘Ah, well, your mother. I’ve heard she was just the same, headstrong and selfish. Just fancy, running off with that man when she could have made a fine marriage.’

  ‘My father was an honourable man. He built up a fine farm and was much respected.’

  ‘Until he died a traitor’s death,’ she said with a smirk. Then before I had time to reply:

  ‘Never mind that. We can make a fresh start. I have found a serving woman for you among my entourage.’

  ‘I appreciate your kindness but I have brought my own serving woman.’

  ‘There really was no need. You’ll be better off with mine, she’s used to a king’s court. I suppose, since she’s here, your girl can help in the kitchen.’ I was not going to have a spy in my service so I stood my ground.

  ‘My woman is of good family, she’s not suited to kitchen work. I have brought her to look after my personal needs.’ We locked eyes. She shrugged.

  ‘Very well, but what about your children? Do they have their own servants too?’

  ‘I haven’t brought my children.’ Gunnhild’s smile stayed fixed on her face but her eyes narrowed.

  ‘Dear Niece, why not? Don’t you realise the advantages you deprive them of? At a king’s court your elder sons, Kveldulf and Harald isn’t it, would be schooled in sword play and meet important future allies. Your daughter, I think you called her Gudrun, would be taught how to run a royal household and be introduced to families looking for suitable brides for their sons. As for your new baby, Thorstein, how can you bear being separated from him?’ In this manner she let me know that, despite Eirik’s lack of interest in my children she was well informed. She even knew Thorstein’s name which he was given after Eirik left my farm. I didn’t want to think about how she could have found that out.

  Thorstein’s name made my breasts ache and my eyes sting. But I must not weaken. All the same my voice was not entirely stable when I told the lie I had prepared:

  ‘I decided to leave them at Becklund. While the household is less busy outside, a thrall who knows reading and writing is teaching the boys their letters, it seemed a pity to interrupt their learning. Gudrun and Thorstein are too young for such a long ride at this time of year.’

  ‘You must send for all of them as soon as the weather gets warmer.’ Her tone of voice made it clear that this was a command not to be negotiated. Anger swept away my weakness. I struggled to keep my temper with the evil witch but I was only too aware that she had the power to hurt me and my family. At least I’d had my own way about the serving woman. As far as the children were concerned I’d just have to find more excuses for them to stay at Becklund.

  I realised my freedom would be curtailed from now on but escaped Gunnhild’s company with the excuse of seeing my entourage settled. She smirked and I soon understood why. While I’d been sparring with her, my household had been allocated quarters. I learnt from Olvir that he, Anlaf, Orm and Cerdic had been drafted into Eirik’s hird while Ylva and Unn had been told to join Gunnhild’s servants and to dress accordingly.

  ‘They’re waiting to tell you how they feel about that,’ said Olvir with a grin. I seethed with indignation and was about to go straight back and confront Gunnhild, when Olvir said:

  ‘Wait! Cuaran’s here. Did you recognise him?’

  ‘Yes, I saw him on the bridge. Did he notice you? How well did he know you when you and Grim scouted for him?’

  ‘I don’t think he ever saw me then. Reme
mber we worked for Wulfstan, not Cuaran. But did he recognise you? He’s unlikely to forget how you made him look a fool when you rode off on North Wind.’

  My head spinning I tried to work out what was happening and the implications for me and my hird. I should be safe as long as Eirik was king. That could change but he would not give up the crown without a fight. However, family duty or no, I was not going to have my warriors risk their lives for the sake of Eirik’s ambition. They must return home.

  I should have known they wouldn’t go without an argument.

  ‘No! We shall not abandon you here, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter. Never.’ Ylva spoke for herself and Unn.

  ‘So you’d rather put on dresses, cover your hair and become servants? That would not be much use to me.’

  They looked at each other and hesitated just long enough for me to get in. ‘We’ll be separated. If I need to flee, I can get away more easily on my own than if I have to find you.’ Unn opened her mouth but, when she couldn’t find a good enough argument, closed it again.

  ‘The same goes for you,’ I said to Anlaf and he swallowed the objection that had hovered on his lips.

  ‘But Orm and I are not yours to command,’ said Cerdic Flatnose. ‘We are sworn to Ragnar and we promised him to stay with you.’

  ‘Have you not understood? I shall be locked away with the other women. You won’t be able to come anywhere near me. Now go, all of you!’ Five of the six hung their heads. I thought I heard them grumbling as they ambled off. But Olvir smiled at me.

  ‘Sigrid, I am not sworn to you or anyone else, I am free and of age. I shall stay here.’

  ***

  And so he stayed, hiding in full view within Eirik’s household. I saw him in the evenings at the feasting, moving with confidence among warriors and servants. How he got access to the solar where Gunnhild spent the days with her women was a mystery. I couldn’t get out so how did he get in? He turned up with platters of food and sweets, with messages or thread for the never ending embroidering. Gunnhild always fixed him with a stare as soon as he entered. Under her falcon’s eyes we were unable to hold any meaningful conversation but it was still a comfort to see him. One day, when she looked away, Olvir slipped me a crumpled piece of parchment. Gunnhild proved to have us in her sight without the need to use her eyes.

  ‘Give me that,’ she snapped.

  ‘It’s for me,’ I said and unfolded it. It was the first three lines of a drapa.

  Wind from the North watches the waning sun from afar Flocks fear the storms and wait to follow the crook When hens hide the raven goes hungry

  ‘I shall have it. You shall keep no secrets from me in my own court.’ Gunnhild’s voice stabbed like an icicle. I handed it over. She read it. Then she said it out loud. A couple of the women sniggered but stopped when Olvir looked at them with sad puppy-eyes. Gunnhild laughed a nasty, contemptuous laughter.

  ‘What is this? Complete nonsense! Why have you brought this to Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter?’ Olvir blushed and stuttered:

  ‘It’s supposed to be a drapa. I want to be a poet. I’m not very good yet.’

  ‘Well, that much is true, at least.’ Some of the women giggled, a bit dutifully, I thought. Olvir went down on one knee.

  ‘I wanted to dedicate it to Your Majesty but I know it’s not yet good enough so I wanted Sigrid to look at it first and help me improve on it. I apologise for my brashness. It was presumptuous. I am not worthy of Your Majesty’s attention.’ Olvir looked very handsome then and the atmosphere among the women changed. Gunnhild leaned forwards in her chair and, unsmiling, scrutinised the young man. I held my breath. Olvir met her eyes with a shy smile. Careful Olvir, I thought, don’t over-do it. But it seemed to work. Gunnhild’s features softened. She shook her head, as if to say she couldn’t make him out.

  Nothing more came of the incident. Olvir stayed away from Gunnhild’s solar and the drapa was not mentioned again. But I had learnt enough. My hird had taken my horse, North Wind, with them but had not followed my orders to return home. They were hiding, waiting for me to guide them. And there was trouble brewing, possibly fighting. But would my “hens” really manage to keep out of it? I thought of Unn, drawn to a fight like a carrion-crow to a carcass. Orm too, never needed much provocation. All I could do was to wait and keep my eyes open.

  The only time I was alone was in the privy. Behind the stables were a whole row of them; a crude pit, an upturned box with a hole to sit on and a shoulder-high wicker fence around it for modesty. The stench was enough to dissuade anyone from lingering. But walking there and back I could dawdle for a while. I had no friends at court. Eirik’s hird, like Gunnhild’s women, wished me nothing but ill so there was no one to exchange greetings and gossip with. But I could still listen in to other people’s conversations. And there were many who quite openly gave vent to their dissatisfaction with Eirik. Some even spoke about Cuaran. I knew I must be on my guard. If Cuaran should take power in Jorvik my life would be in danger.

  Evenings were heavy. I was obliged to attend the banquets Eirik provided for a stream of Jarls and wealthy merchants. Sometimes Archbishop Wulfstan was there smiling and talking and I would know that Ragnar was somewhere close but out of reach. Eirik’s daughter Ragnhild sat dressed in velvets and silks, adorned with gold and precious stones. She was not yet of marriageable age but still held up as a prize for the support of Eirik’s increasingly unsafe position. As the royal niece I too was paraded in front of wavering allies. Some of them laboured under the mis-apprehension that I was available for marriage. To begin with I thought this a simple misunderstanding and I made sure to speak of my husband and children.

  I knew there was reckoning to be done when Gunnhild sent her other attendants away from the solar.

  ‘Sigrid, it would please your royal uncle to see you more pleasant in your communion with the valued guests at our table.’

  ‘I am as polite as can be expected, dear Aunt. I hope I have not offended anyone.’

  ‘You seem unwilling to accept gifts from admirers.’

  ‘That would be unseemly. I am a married woman.’

  ‘So you keep telling them. I don’t know why you insist on that. Nobody suggests you should do any more than receive and be thankful for a few gifts. Nothing unseemly in that. Unless you suggest I am misbehaving in taking the jewellery and cloth our allies find fit to present me with.’

  ‘With my uncle, your husband, present there could be no misunderstanding. I prefer for people to know my status as a married woman.’ Her eyes narrowed.

  ‘You wilfully misunderstand me, dear Niece. Even apart from family obligation it will do you no harm to have a King for your uncle should you one day be in need of a new husband.’

  ‘I’m not…’

  ‘Niece! Do not presume to contradict me. These are important men of wealth and influence. The King should not need to ask for your support in this matter.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware the King needed support?’ It slipped out. I couldn’t help myself. She drew an indignant breath. I was saved by the arrival of Wulfstan. Gunnhild switched from enraged harridan to devoted subject, bent her knee and kissed the archbishop’s ring. I bent my knee but, as always, ignored the ring. We were joined by Eirik who without greeting anyone said:

  ‘Niece, you try everyone’s patience. The collection of misfits you call your hird have, contrary to our instructions that they join our household, taken themselves off and without provocation have attacked my warriors.’

  ‘An outrage!’ screamed Gunnhild. ‘Husband, I told you this would happen. Where are you going? Sigrid!’ I had already undone my brooches and was on my way to change into breeches and tunic and to collect Dragonclaw. Or so I thought.

  Half way down the stairs I was intercepted by Haeric. He smiled.

  ‘When my step-mother calls, we all obey. You too.’ He gathered hold of my pinafore to stop me. My brooches already undone I wriggled out of it and ran.

  In the doorway I was tripped up and fell flat on m
y stomach among the mud, horse dung and puddles. Someone laughed. Haeric’s large boots came level with my face. I rolled out of his way, turned on to my side and kicked. I hit his shin which made him roar, albeit more in anger than pain. I scrambled to my feet. Haeric freed his hand from my pinafore and threw it on the ground. He drew his sword. My sword hand grabbed nothing but thin air where Dragonclaw should have been. The laughter stopped.

  ‘Brother, this won’t bring you much honour. The woman isn’t even armed.’

  ‘Then lend her your blade and let her live up to her reputation.’ A handle was pushed into my fist. I pulled the hem of my dress through my belt and raised the borrowed sword. I just had time to notice that it felt good, well balanced and not too heavy. I had lost one of my indoor slippers. I kicked the other one off. There was no time to take a stance. Haeric came for me with a furious thrust. But he was hasty and off balance. I stepped aside and he went too far forward, unable to stop. I swirled round and had his exposed back at my mercy. Odin made me remember that I could not kill the King’s son who was also my cousin. I turned my wrist and instead of stabbing him in the back I hit him with the flat of the blade. He bellowed but I didn’t wait for him to find his feet and attack. I ran towards the gates. They were open. My bare feet slid on the filth but I kept going. As I reached the gates two spears crossed my path. I stabbed at one of the guards. He stepped aside. The other aimed his spear at my chest. Before I could swing my borrowed sword and deflect the spear-head my arms were pinned to my sides from behind and two grinning warriors led me back to face the Archbishop and my enraged relatives.

  ***

  And then I was back to spending my days in the solar. I was back to endless days listening to Gunnhild while struggling with the embroidery. I was under constant observation by Gunnhild’s attendants. My own servant, Vida, was put to work in the kitchen and Bertha, a fat, surly matron, became my personal serving woman and jailor. Worst of all, Olvir disappeared making my isolation complete. For two miserable weeks I endured the joyless ceremonies of Christmas. I thought of the Yule they would be celebrating at Becklund. The longing to see Ragnar and my children sat like a cold lump in my breast. I had no way of fighting this. I was tearful and dejected. There was a heavy snow fall. Now, even if I’d got away from the solar, my footsteps would give me away. I felt my gods had turned their backs on me.