Shieldmaiden Page 6

  ‘Don’t goad Hauk about his lack of fighting prowess,’ she said, ‘he’s my only child. I don’t want him to think he has to seek honour in battle. We need him here.’

  I should have listened to her then. But I didn’t. I never considered Hauk as a person. He was the man I had married to please my parents and to avoid being left an old maid. I had run away before the marriage had seen three moons and, since my return, I had been sick with grief. Now I needed him to be father to my child. I neither contemplated what kind of man he really was nor what I kind of man I was turning him into.

  I was mindful of my duties as a wife during the day but I could not control my dreams, which became increasingly vivid and disturbing while the child was growing in me.

  ‘Come sit with me a moment, wife,’ Hauk said to me one morning when I brought him his breakfast. I joined him on the treetrunk he had felled, steadying my bulk by holding on to his shoulder.

  ‘You speak in your sleep.’ I had taken care, as always, to sit on his uninjured side but now I wished I could see the colour of his scar to judge his state of mind. ‘You call out names.’ The silence that followed sat heavy on my chest. Hauk took a deep breath. ‘Names!’ now his voice was angry.

  Bile of fear rose in my throat. I swallowed and whispered: ‘What names?’

  ‘Ragnar. Who is Ragnar?’ There was violence in his question. I knew I must not swoon, I must not let on.

  ‘Don’t shout at me, Hauk. He’s a boy I knew when I was a child. I saw his father killed. I don’t even know if anyone has told him. I keep dreaming of the killings.’ I was crying now. Hauk seemed less sure of himself but he continued:

  ‘So who’s Thorfinn? And Olvir?’

  ‘Olvir! But Hauk, you know who Olvir is. He’s the lad who came with me from Becklund. Hauk my dreams are full of what I witnessed. I can’t help what I see then.’

  ‘Sigrid I’m plagued by doubts. Say the child is mine. Say you love me.’

  ‘The child is yours.’ That much I managed to lie but I could not bring myself to speak of love to him and I pretended to choke on my tears. He put his arm round me.

  ‘Sigrid, little wife, all will be well. I promise you, we shall re-build Becklund and then we shall have two of the best farms in Cumbria and great wealth to pass on to our children.’

  My baby announced its arrival in the middle of the night three new moons after the midwinter sacrifice. I woke and at first I thought it was my nightmare continuing to squeeze my ribs. Then I realised and rose to summon Ingefried from her bed. She called a thrall and ordered a fire in the bathhouse. I went outside. Frost glittered on the hard ground and on the branches of trees and shrubs.

  ‘Walk around a bit,’ said Ingefried and covered my shoulders with my fur-lined cloak. I threw it open, thankful to cool off. The icy air stung my chest and the pain abated. When it returned it was worse than before and I groaned.

  ‘Listen, Sigrid, this is just the beginning. Your waters haven’t even broken yet. Don’t whimper. Grit your teeth!’

  Once the sauna was warm enough, Ingefried made me lie down on the bench with my legs open. She tut-tutted and made me walk around again. The pains came and went. The sun rose. There were voices outside, Hauk and Thorgunn. Ingefried was talking to them.

  ‘It’s a bit early but I’m sure all will be well.’

  ‘More than a bit early! Let me see her. I want an answer once and for all!’

  ‘Calm yourself son. You mustn’t upset her now.’

  ‘You most certainly will not see her. This is women’s business. Go away. Your child will be brought to you in the usual manner. Thorgunn, please take him away. I’ll send for you if we need you.’

  My waters broke and gushed, warm and sticky, along my legs on to the floor. The pains came at regular intervals and wrenched my insides until I screamed. So the day passed into evening.

  I knelt on the bench, shivering under another contraction. In the heat and steam Ingefried tried to make me breathe deeply and work with the baby. But I was full of dread and my cleft was tense and my breathing out of time. She left me with a thrall-girl and when she returned she sent the girl away and made me drink a most foul concoction. Then I remember a great fog. Pain still sliced through my body, but it didn’t seem to matter. I heard screams, which may have been mine. There were voices, the voices of my nightmares and the faces that came with them, my mother denouncing me, the sound of the sword on my father’s neck, the thundering hooves of the horse carrying Ragnar away from me, the crackling of the flames destroying Becklund. Then I was back there, back in my father’s hall. But the roof was caving in. I had to hold it up or it would collapse on top of me. I became a giant. My strength superhuman, I strained and pushed to keep those mighty beams from crushing me. I heard myself scream. My body was torn apart, my strength waned. I floated on a cloud with my head in my mother’s lap.

  I woke with a headache like thunder and a vile taste in my mouth. I was alone. The fire in the sauna had died out. I was covered by a linen sheet and a soft cured skin. The bench underneath me felt wet and cold. I lay on my side and there was sick on the floor. The smell made me heave and retch but I was empty. I closed my eyes. I had no memory.

  Outside there was a great noise. People cheered and clapped their hands. The door to the sauna opened. I gulped the fresh air. Ingefried came to my side. She handed me a swaddled bundle.

  ‘Your son,’ she said. ‘Hauk has sprinkled him with water and named him Kveldulf.’

  So, despite his doubts, Hauk accepted my son. He didn’t have to do that. He could have turned me out for the mere suspicion of bearing another man’s child. But then he would have lost the rights to the land at Becklund. Nor did he reject the child as a result of rape. A legitimate son and heir was what he wanted, so that’s what he claimed. He honoured me with a gift of a pleated gold finger-ring and let every household in the area know he had a son.

  It did him no good. As soon as I looked into the eyes of my newborn son, I knew he was Ragnar’s and I knew I had to find my love and bring his son to him.

  Four new moons after Kveldulf ’s birth Hauk left with some of his men to go trading. He’d been gone two days when I handed Thorgunn the keys and told her I intended to take my son to Becklund. I saddled the grey mare Moonbeam and, ignoring Thorgunn’s protests, set off alone with my baby strapped to my back. I was not headed for Becklund. I would go to Ragnar’s family at Buttermere to find out what had befallen him.

  I took the route I had walked when I ran from Swanhill and my quarrel with Hauk over Lydia. I was able to ride the first part of the journey. The gentle rolling gait of the horse rocked Kveldulf to sleep. When the path became too steep, I had to dismount and lead the mare. This woke him and he cried. I was already tired and glad of a rest so I put a halter on the horse and sat down. I parted my pinafore and put the baby to my breast. He was a big feeder and I was filled with pride and love. In the silence I became aware of voices and the sound of a horse’s hooves. Carefully so as not to cause my baby distress, I stood up and looked round me. The sound seemed to come from the way I had just travelled. Looking down the path I saw a large grey horse with two people on it, a woman and a child. With a sigh I sat down to await the arrival of Ingefried and Olvir.

  ‘Sigrid, this is too much! I’m too old for this!’ Ingefried clung to the horse I had taken from Thorfinn. Olvir was panting hard from the effort of leading the horse over the steep ground.

  ‘Who asked you to come? I didn’t intend to be away for long. There’s no need.’ I held the bridle while Olvir helped Ingefried off the horse.

  ‘When you go off without talking to anyone, I know you’re up to no good.’

  ‘I told Thorgunn.’ Ingefried’s snort brought Olvir out in a giggle. I slapped him for his insolence but half-heartedly since I was fond of the boy.

  ‘Where are you going really, Sigrid?’ I knew she had guessed so I told her:

  ‘To Buttermere. I need to find out where Ragnar is.’ Her eyes shot fi
re-brands at me. She ordered Olvir to take our horses to water and when his back was turned she hissed:

  ‘Yes, I thought as much! Ragnar Sweinson, the outlawed son of a traitor.’ She slapped me across the face. ‘When will you grow up? You’re a wife and mother! You behave like a woman without shame, a disgrace to your family. What would your mother say? How would your father feel?’ By now you’d need to be a furlong away not to hear. Kveldulf stopped feeding and began to cry. I saw Olvir’s shoulders stiffen as he dragged the animals with him along the beck. I rubbed my stinging cheek.

  ‘You can’t do that! I’m your mistress.’

  ‘You are a child I brought into this world. I nursed both you and your mother and that gives me the right. When you conduct yourself like a mistress you’ll find the respect you think yourself entitled to, will be given without grudge.’ She took Kveldulf from me and shushed and rocked him until he stopped crying. We stood silently glaring at each other. After a while Ingefried said:

  ‘In one thing you are right. Kveldulf should breathe the air at Becklund and there’s no harm in him touching his grandfather’s stone even if it isn’t finished. But there will be no other visits for you, my girl.’

  So the four of us set off for Becklund. On the steeper parts of Mosedale we had to lead the horses but we still made good time and arrived shortly after midday. The farm was much changed since my last visit. Bard, the freeman Hauk had put in charge of the work, received us with ale and bread.

  ‘Welcome Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter. You arrive alone, without your husband?’ He gazed at me from under his bushy, grey eyebrows.

  ‘Thank you. Yes Bard, my husband is away trading and I felt a great longing to visit my old home and bring my son here.’

  ‘It will be some time before Becklund resembles the home you knew.’ He pointed towards the farmstead where work had started on the main buildings. The cook house was re-roofed and in use. I looked at the remains of my father’s hall. The stone walls had been repaired and earth banked up on the outside. Large roof-timbers were stacked up to dry. When ready they would be put up in the shape of an upturned boat and covered with turf. Inside it would again be warm and smoky with the smells of cooking and… I began trembling and had to turn away.

  Bard’s rumbling voice was soft as he touched my elbow and turned me towards the lake.

  ‘The rune-writer is at his task. It will be a fine stone as befits your father’s memory. Would you like to see it?’ He must have seen I was too overcome with my memories to answer for he continued: ’I see your son is hearty and hale. May I call your people to meet him?’ He sent for all the thralls and free men and women to come and pay their respect to Kveldulf. The men approved his sturdy little limbs and the women fussed over his round cheeks. And my baby waved and smiled and made happy, gurgling noises.

  Bard led us round the farm. We saw the fields put to the plough and the young animals growing fat on the rich pasture. I carried my son through the meadow and the trees towards the lakeshore. There was the stone, a large slab of grey it would stand taller than a man. A rune-writer was chipping out an image of Odin on his eight-legged horse Sleipner and with his two black ravens, Hugin and Munin by his shoulder. It was far from ready but it would look imposing. Set on higher ground, it would be visible from the water. I put Kveldulf ’s little hand against the stone and he clenched his fingers as if he were trying to grasp it.

  ‘It is good of your husband to so honour your father and look after his people.’ Ingefried’s voice was insistent and in front of everyone I had to smile and nod agreement. Too soon we had to leave. With my whole being I wanted to stay there and help turn the farmstead back to what it was. I whispered to Kveldulf:

  ‘This is yours, all yours. One day we will come back here and be happy. You, me and your father.’

  When I told my infant son stories of his grandfather’s exploits as a warrior, stories I had to make up since my father never spoke of them himself, Hauk would sit quietly, regarding me out of the corner of his one eye. Thorgunn tried to speak to me about him again:

  ‘He’s as strong and courageous as any man but his eye makes it hard for him in a fight because he can’t see if anyone comes at him from the right. And, Sigrid, he has his pride. Many times I’ve had to persuade him to stay here while others went raiding. But he would perish in battle. I worry every day he will leave and come to harm.’

  From time to time I tried to settle down to my marriage. Ingefried would remind me of Hauk’s good nature, the stone for my father, his acceptance of my son, his care for the elderly thralls and freemen of Becklund. It was true that Hauk tried hard to win me over. But I had my son as a daily reminder of Ragnar. My love for him smothered any grain of love or even friendship I could have nurtured for Hauk.

  The servants and thralls of Swanhill had never showed me the kind of respect I remember my mother receiving at Becklund. They obeyed me but with surly faces. I didn’t let it worry me. I had other things on my mind and as long as they did as I ordered, I didn’t much care about why. Whenever I beat a servant Ingefried would try and advise me:

  ‘A little kindness gets you further than the stick and harsh words.’ But I didn’t listen.

  We had been married nearly two years when Hauk had a spell of bad luck. Sometimes he would return from a hunt with game for the spit but more often than not he came back empty handed. His attention to me diminished. I didn’t mind. I hardly noticed. I lived in a fantasy world where Ragnar would call for me and carry me away. Then the herring catch failed.

  ‘It’s her fault,’ I overheard the thralls whisper. ‘She’s cursed by the gods.’ I could feel their resentful eyes on my back as I moved round the farmstead. At first I ignored it but soon it made me feel uncomfortable. I began to listen in when they thought themselves alone and, from behind a woodpile, I heard two of the women discuss me in unflattering terms. Then one of them said:

  ‘All was well before she came, when Lydia was his woman.’

  ‘He goes to Lydia again, you know. I saw them. Things could change around here.’ A malicious giggle then she continued: ‘And if they do Mistress Sigrid had better watch her back. He looks after her now but if he’s intent on returning to the soft arms of Lydia…’ They moved out of my hearing. I leant on the rough woodpile for support. It had never occurred to me I had anything to fear from the thralls.

  Hauk told us he was leaving.

  ‘King Olav the Red is calling men to arms. I have a mind to join him.’ The statement was so unexpected neither Mother Thorgunn nor I reacted to it at once. I heard Lydia cry out and whisper to herself where she sat at the end of the table among the other slave women. Then Thorgunn found her tongue:

  ‘You would fight for the King of Dublin? What good will that do you? You have no cause in common.’

  ‘I will join his fight against Aethelstan and his rule. It’s time to make a stand and make sure we keep our own laws. Aethelstan is getting too powerful. We need a Norse king in Jorvik again.’

  ‘The quarrels between kings have nothing to do with us, my son. You have a wife and child to provide for. You have me. I was looking forward to a peaceful old age. What will become of us here if you’re killed in battle? Honour won’t put bread on the table and as for whose law we live by, I doubt it will make much difference to ordinary people.’

  It was the longest speech I had heard from my mouse-like mother-in-law. But Hauk didn’t pay any attention to her. His eye was fixed on me. I opened my mouth but the words would not come. All round the longhouse, the servants and thralls stared at me. Every breath could be heard over the crackling of the fire. The words I ought to say, ‘husband do not go’, hovered in the smoke-filled air. But I was mute.

  When I didn’t speak, Hauk returned to the piece of alder he was fashioning into a bowl. The knuckles stood out white on the bronzed fist and his shoulder heaved with the force he put into digging the gouge into the wood. His breathing followed the movements of his arm, short intake, holding his breath whi
le the gouge bit then a long low grunt as the slice of alder curled away from the inside of the bowl. Without looking up he said:

  ‘There’s a large army gathering for a final battle against Aethelstan. Olaf Guthfridson of Dublin and his hordes have joined Constantine the Scot, Danish princes and jarls from the islands have mustered.’ He raised his head and looked me full in the face, ‘Even the Manx Vikings are turning out.’

  My hands began to shake and I put down my distaff, pretending to add more wool.

  ‘Yes, they say the son of the traitor Swein Hjaltebrand is with them, trying to win favour with King Olaf.’ He turned and spat on the floor. I flinched as if he’d aimed at me.

  I should have told Hauk not to go. But I didn’t. And then it was too late. My mind span a yarn of fear and guilt: fear of the hostile thralls if Hauk was killed, fear of Hauk killing Ragnar. Whatever happened would be my fault. I had no idea how but I knew it was my duty to stop it. So, when Hauk loaded his weapons on his horse, I handed the keys to the distraught Thorgunn. I held my son and breathed in the infant smell of milk and warm skin. I kissed his round cheeks, his downy head and his firm little fist.

  ‘Mamammm,’ he smiled and I felt like I was dying.

  ‘I will be back.’ I whispered. I meant to say so much more but tears I could not allow grew inside me and choked me to silence. I put him in Ingefried’s arms. It tore my heart to shreds but where I was going was no place for a small child. Above anything else I wanted him safe. I found the sword Snakebite and the helmet my father had given me and the light shield Steinar and I had used as children. I took my cloak from its peg and went to join Hauk. He never looked at me.

  ‘You’ll need a horse. Take Moonbeam,’ was all he said.

  7.

  Eight of our freemen came. We were also joined by Hauk’s halfbrother Kjeld, who farmed over by Croasdale, and he brought ten of his freemen. There were a number of trustworthy thralls, two of them women, who would look after the horses and set up camp. Olvir was among them, he was the youngest. He was seven years old.