Honour is All Read online

  March 949

  A hand covered my mouth. The whisper was no more than a breath.

  ‘Shh, it’s me.’ In the light from the embers in the small hearth, I saw Vida crouching low next to my bed. My heart threatened to split my ribcage. I strained to see if anyone had woken. Next to me, Bertha, my jailor, continued to snore. All round me in the women’s house nothing moved. Vida handed me her pinafore and shawl and pointed to the door.

  ‘Stables,’ she mouthed. I pulled on her clothes while she crept into my sleeping place next to Bertha and pulled the covers over her head.

  I felt naked without Dragonclaw, which lay hidden under the bolsters on the sleeping platform, but there was no way to retrieve her without waking Bertha. I pushed the door open inch by inch. Every creak made me stop and look over my shoulder. I slipped outside. The courtyard was empty and silent. From the stables came the sound of horses shifting from one foot to another, an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. I kept to the shadows and made my way towards the stables. A sound made me stop and look round. From behind a corner stepped someone wrapped in a cloak. I had expected Olvir and didn’t at first recognise the tall, broad-shouldered figure until I was swept into a familiar embrace. After a long kiss I got my breath back:

  ‘Ragnar!’

  ‘Hello, Shieldmaiden, have you missed me?’ I sensed rather than saw his grin.

  ‘You have no idea how much!’ He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Darkness hid how I lost all sense of shame and enjoyed my husband there against a stable wall. When I came to my senses again we stood with our arms around each other for a while. Then I asked:

  ‘What happened to my warriors?’

  ‘According to Olvir, they were sent a message to join Eirik’s household as servants. Unfortunately the messenger met with an accident so they never got the call.’

  ‘Who? Unn I suppose. Or Orm?’

  ‘Could have been any one of them. Makes no difference to the messenger. Dangerous occupation, working for Eirik. I think your people made the right choice to turn him down although they could have been a bit more polite about it.’

  ‘This is not a joke, Ragnar. Killing one of Eirik’s men, Odin’s beard! Where are they now?’

  ‘For a while they hid among the crews further down river. Then someone worked out that the girls were girls, made a pass and Unn lost her temper. Predictable. Not even Olvir has managed to find out where they are but he thinks they all got away.’

  ‘I must escape. I must find them.’

  ‘No, they can wait. There are more serious matters than your wayward hird. Olvir tells me King Aedred is heading this way with his army of Wessex men and Mercians. We’ve been here before. We know what’ll happen. Olvir thinks that if you could persuade Eirik to leave by his own volition, it could save a lot of blood. I think he’s right.’

  ‘It’s that bad?’

  ‘So Olvir tells me.’

  ‘But what do I say to Eirik? I don’t know what’s at stake.’

  ‘One of your old, fat admirers can probably be persuaded to tell you. Just don’t be too nice to any of them.’ The darkness hid my smile. Olvir was as aware as anyone of how jealous Ragnar was and had taken care to make a joke about my suitors, some of whom were neither old nor fat.

  I chose my informant carefully. He was not fat but old and very flattered by my attentions.

  ‘I’m afraid your royal uncle was a dangerous choice of king for the Northumbrians,’ he said.

  ‘Oh,’ I said and let him work his arm round my waist while trying to avoid breathing in his putrid exhalation. ‘But why is that?’

  ‘The King of the Saxons, Aedred he’s called, has threatened to come north, you see.’

  ‘Is that bad?’ I looked at him wide eyed and tried to sound like one of the simpering young women around Gunnhild.

  ‘Haha, could be. He claims that what Edmund did to us after the last war will look like a gentle reprimand compared to what he plans to do when he gets here.’ He picked up my hand and planted a moist kiss on it.

  ‘But what’s that got to do with my uncle?’ I thought I’d over-done it when he released my hand but he just took a drink from his beaker. He wiped his beard with the back of his hand before placing it on my knee. I tried not to wriggle away although my instinct was to punch him. He sighed.

  ‘It was a cruel defeat at the hands of Edmund and he made us suffer for it. The new king of the Saxons will attack Jorvik. There’s been too much war. Trade suffers, you see. Crops are burnt and animals killed.’

  ‘But how awful!’ I tried to look as stupid as that must sound.

  ‘Yes, so in answer to your question, there are some that may even consider asking King Eirik to leave in order to avoid further bloodshed.’

  ‘That would seem a sensible solution. Might you be among those who think so?’ He stopped trying to work his hand up my thigh and a look of suspicion floated across his wrinkled face.

  ‘Why do you want to know these things? You shouldn’t bother your pretty head with such matters.’ I smiled and drew apart. He frowned. I decided there was no more to be had from him so I got up, curtsied and left.

  The next day I asked for a private talk with my uncle. To my surprise he agreed. He joined us in the solar and Gunnhild’s women were sent out. We spoke a while about general things. All three of us knew this was not a courtesy call. Gunnhild, I’m sure, could have continued until the eve of Ragnarok. She waited for me to open the bidding but it was Eirik who lost his patience.

  ‘Enough of this, Niece. You didn’t ask to see me to exchange pleasantries. What did you find out from that dried up old prune you were so attentive to last night?’

  ‘After my aunt’s admonitions I decided to be more gracious towards your guests. The Ealdorman honoured me with his confidence. I thought you should know what he told me.’ Gunnhild actually smiled.

  ‘Well done, Niece,’ she said. ‘I knew you’d be of service to us.’ I ignored her and made a point of addressing Eirik.

  ‘I fear your support in Jorvik is no longer strong. King Aedred has sent messages threatening a war worse than the last one. People are worried.’ I may have spoken to Eirik but Gunnhild replied:

  ‘I’m sure the people of Jorvik know my husband’s reputation as a great warrior. They will not desert him. We are more than capable of dealing with a few turn-coats.’ She sounded ready for a fight but Eirik looked thoughtful. I turned to him again:

  ‘I’m sure people respect your courage and honour but they are tired of war. The merchants want no more interruptions to their trade; some of the jarls and other great landowners want to grow their crops and breed animals without the devastation brought by the fighting. Most of them have hardly had time to recover from the last war.’ My uncle sighed. He was no longer young and I began to think that maybe he too had had enough of fighting. I never found out whether I was right. Gunnhild was not about to give up. She was the daughter of a king and felt entitled to be the wife of one.

  ‘Where is the Archbishop?’ she said and glared at Eirik. ‘What support is he going to give? He persuaded the witan to appoint you. Is he going to sit back and have all our plans upturned? Or has he lost control? Eirik, what are you going to do? You will not give in to this. You must mobilise your warriors, gather your supporters, raise an army. I shouldn’t have to tell you this. You’re a king. You know what needs to be done. These people have to be brought to heel like the errant dogs they are.’ Eirik sighed, got up from his seat and moved towards the door.

  ‘Eirik!’ Gunnhild’s voice was like the crack of a whip. Eirik stopped as if struck down by an arrow. I watched him crumple and return to his seat. Gunnhild dismissed me with a wave of her hand. As I left them I heard her voice taking on a soothing, melodious quality, almost like a chant. I didn’t understand the words but it sounded like an invocation and it didn’t sound like one she’d use to call to the Christian God.

  It wasn’t just that I’d failed in my mission to persuad
e Eirik to give up the crown, I hadn’t even realised that the decision was not his to make. Gunnhild was the real king here. The only person who might be strong enough to outplay Gunnhild was Wulfstan. At the next banquet he, as always, greeted all the guests personally to give them the opportunity to kiss the ring. I knelt and pressed my lips to the gold-mounted ruby in a firm and prolonged kiss. I stole a glance to make sure he’d noticed. I needn’t have worried. His jaw dropped and he forgot to make the sign of the cross over me. I smothered a grin and said in a loud voice:

  ‘Your Grace, I feel the need to confess my sins, would you in your benevolence listen to your repentant daughter?’ He couldn’t very well say no and this was just about the only thing Gunnhild could not prevent me leaving her presence for. I felt very pleased with myself. That is always dangerous.

  The next day I received the call to attend Wulfstan in his private chapel. I had no idea what to do if he expected me to do a confession. That didn’t matter. Wulfstan must have reflected on my sudden conversion and realised something else lay behind it.

  ‘So, my “repentant daughter”, what do you have to tell me? Are you finally prepared to relinquish your pagan ways and perhaps even to give up your sword? Nothing would please me more.’ One of his eyebrows rose to the edge of his cap and offered a rare glimpse of the eye before returning to its habitual place. His mouth twitched. He gestured to a stool and I sat down.

  ‘Your Grace, I didn’t know how else to be able to address you alone. I beg your forbearance, I don’t mean to make light of your religion.’

  ‘No, no, to struggle against it as hard as you do is not a sign of taking it lightly, I never thought that. Now, what’s on your mind?’

  ‘Your Grace, the situation in Northumbria worries me. Contrary to your opinion of me I seek not war but peace. I learn that Aedred is ready to move north unless Eirik relinquishes the crown.’

  ‘Aedred is not strong enough to defeat Eirik’s army.’

  ‘But does my uncle have an army? His own hird is not large enough and his support among the people here is diminishing.’ Wulfstan’s eyebrows met above the bridge of his nose. I hastened add; ‘So I’m told.’

  ‘By whom? Who speaks such treacherous language?’

  ‘Oh, I just hear people talk.’

  ‘I didn’t realise that eavesdropping ran in the family. I don’t suppose Olvir is one of your informants. Ah, well, no matter. Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, you shall take my advice and stay out of our struggle for independence from the Saxon king. It is not yours to fight.’

  ‘With all respect, Your Grace, I think it was made mine when I was sent for to join the court here.’

  ‘Your duty here is to be with the Queen, not to meddle in politics.’ He rose from his seat. I took my leave. So Wulfstan wasn’t even going to try to persuade Eirik to relinquish the crown of Jorvik. Another war was inevitable. Failure settled on my shoulders like a shroud.

  Aedred’s forces were on the move. The message reached us that the King of Wessex had passed through Tamworth. The next morning I dressed in a tunic and trousers. I dug out Dragonclaw from underneath the bolsters in my sleeping place and fastened her to my belt.

  ‘You can’t carry that here,’ said Bertha. ‘And what do you think you’re wearing?’ I didn’t bother to answer. Her pasty cheeks reddened. ‘I shall inform Queen Gunnhild.’

  ‘No need, she’ll see for herself soon enough.’

  ‘Then let’s see how brave you are when she does.’ I ignored her and called to my servant woman:

  ‘Vida, we’re leaving.’ Bertha tried to hold me back. I shook off her hand. The other inhabitants of the women’s house looked on. Some appeared to enjoy the prospect of a fight between me and Gunnhild, others just looked worried. One said:

  ‘I shall get a larger knife so I can cut my own throat before those Wessex soldiers get to me.’ Another gave a horrified little shriek at this:

  ‘But that’s a mortal sin, you’re talking. Just thinking it is wrong in the eyes of the Lord.’ They entered into a theological dispute whether self-murder was allowed as a way of preserving one’s modesty. I was all for them getting weapons but to kill Saxons, not themselves. I knew there was no point telling them that. These were all good Christian women who used knives only to cut their meat and bread. They continued to argue as they followed me when I went to face my royal aunt.

  Crossing the yard between the women’s house and the hall we met Eirik. He waved at me to stop.

  ‘Ah, Sigrid, good. I see you have anticipated my orders. Find that collection of misfits you call your hird. I know they’re hiding somewhere around Jorvik. You are to escort the Queen, her children and her gaggle of women to the Minster at Ripon. Jorvik might turn out to be a little lively for a while.’ He rubbed his hands together and grinned. I was stunned at the change in my uncle. The prospect of battle seemed to have rejuvenated him – or was it that chant I’d heard Gunnhild use?

  April 948

  The monastery in Ripon was to offer us a place of safety. Gunnhild was allocated separate rooms in the hospital for herself, her daughter and four younger sons and her ladies. They were also served their meals there so they didn’t have to mix with other travellers. I claimed a small antechamber for myself, Ylva and Unn. Anlaf, Olvir, Orm and Cerdic had pallets in the hospital’s general dormitory. No sooner were we all settled than there was a message from the Abbot inviting Gunnhild and her ladies to pray in the Minster. I had made it clear to her that I was no longer part of her entourage but, of course, I was still her designated body-guard and as such I was obliged to go with her. I told Anlaf and the other men to look around and acquaint themselves with the layout of the monastery and the small village that surrounded it.

  The singing hit me as soon as we opened the heavy doors. Toneless, grating and even more disjointed than the chants I had been unfortunate enough to have to sit through in Jorvik. A small man in a black habit stood in front of a group of monks waving his arms. He too must have noticed the dissonance because he interrupted the choir with an impatient cry:

  ‘This won’t do. It won’t do at all. At least try to keep up with each other. We have a proud tradition to live up to. This has to be perfect for Easter and we only have a couple of weeks. The Glory of God deserves our very best. Now try again. This is what you’re supposed to aim for.’ He hummed in a squeaky voice. The monks looked at him with pained expressions.

  ‘This is awful,’ whispered Gunnhild. ‘Who is that singing master? He’s a disgrace.’ I nodded but a grin spread across my face. I had to make sure but there could be no doubt; that high pitched voice, that lack of both ability and awareness.

  Gunnhild and her ladies went down on their knees in front of an altar. I nodded to Ylva and Unn to stay with them. Then I slid behind a pillar and made my way along the dimly lit side aisle to get a look at the choir master. In the coloured light from a stained glass I recognised the round, innocent face. I stepped out from the shadows. Ansgar was concentrating on the wretched monks in front of him and it took a while before he noticed me.

  ‘Who dares disturb..? What do you think..? Go away!’ He flapped his long sleeves at me. I took a step closer.

  ‘Brother Ansgar, it’s me, Sigrid.’ His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, he stepped towards me, he stepped back, a little dance of indecision before he smiled and shook his head.

  ‘Dear child, though it makes my heart glad to see you alive and well, you cannot just come in here and interrupt choir like this. Oh well, they’re due a rest perhaps.’ He dismissed the monks who looked relieved and left in a hurry, probably worried that Ansgar might change his mind.

  ‘Ansgar, I thought you were in Keswick.’

  ‘I’m afraid Wulfstan caught up with me again. When he summons, I cannot disobey, however inconvenient.’

  ‘But, in that case, why here? Why not in Jorvik?’

  ‘Well, that’s the problem, you see. When I arrived here he was gone, left for Jorvik, they tell me. No message for me so
I don’t know if he wants me to follow or wait for him to return. There’s plenty needs attention here: the buildings are neglected, the garden overgrown, holy books nibbled by mice, the choir doesn’t practise and just look at that.’ He pointed to a flaking picture of a sour faced saint who looked like he was strangling a swan. ‘So much that needs doing, Sigrid but why me? I was doing the Lord’s work among those whose faith is weak, who need support and reassurance. Ah well, you’ll know all about that,’ he added in a waspish tone. I raised my hands.

  ‘Brother Ansgar, we have talked this through before.’

  ‘Perhaps so but that doesn’t mean that the Lord wants me to give up on you.’

  I knew, of course, that Gunnhild had eyes in the back of her head so I wasn’t surprised when Bertha stomped up to me and ordered me to return to my duty.

  ‘Bertha, I think the Queen will wish to meet Brother Ansgar. He’s head scribe to Archbishop Wulfstan.’ Bertha looked uncertain. I stared her out. She retreated and it didn’t take long before Gunnhild herself arrived. She looked at Ansgar through narrowed eyes, took in his worn old habit, his plain silver cross on the leather thong. I was sure she’d reject the idea of this simple monk as head scribe but I’d forgotten there was very little she didn’t know about.

  ‘Brother Ansgar, will you bless me and my ladies in our exile.’ They all knelt and Ansgar made the sign of the cross over them. And then they prayed, oh how they prayed.

  We spent the next few days in bored anticipation of news. The Minster was in the grip of something called Lent. I had always thought Christian feasts solemn occasions but this build-up to Easter was miserable. We were so starved I had to find a farmer willing to sell smoked meat and fresh eggs on the understanding that we kept our arrangement a secret. Only Cerdic and Vida turned down the forbidden food.