Daughter of Fire and Ice (23 page)

Olvir rolled his sleeve back down.

‘You have great skill,’ he said.

‘I was well trained,’ I told him. ‘But any healer could have done as much.’

‘You saved people’s lives during the sickness,’ said Olvir, staring at me. I started to feel uncomfortable. ‘You saved my son’s life. Ragna told me.’

I remembered Ragna’s accusations of letting people die and felt confused. She could not have changed towards me this much, I felt sure.

‘You entrusted him to us,’ I said to Olvir. ‘I felt responsible for him.’ I looked around to see if Ulf was nearby but I couldn’t see him.

I became aware that nearly everyone was listening to our conversation.

‘You’d make a wonderful mother,’ said Olvir. ‘Will you marry me?’

‘You … you aren’t serious,’ I stuttered, rocked completely off balance.

‘I am,’ he said simply.

I could hear stifled giggles around me now. Everyone who had any business to be around the fire was sitting listening, as well as many who didn’t. I looked around at them, wondering if this was some kind of bet or wager to make me look foolish.

‘You’re beautiful, talented, and desirable and I want you to be my wife,’ Olvir continued.

The giggles around us broke out afresh. Olvir smiled and I edged a little further away from him.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Bjorn. He’d approached us, obviously drawn by the merriment.

‘I’m asking Thora to marry me,’ explained Olvir. He seemed completely unembarrassed by the situation. Bjorn looked thunderous.

‘And what does Thora say?’ he demanded.

‘She hasn’t replied yet,’ explained Olvir earnestly.

I cast Bjorn a look of desperation. I had no idea what to say or do. We were all a little frightened of Olvir, scared to do or say anything that might trigger his berserker rage. But that didn’t include agreeing to this preposterous proposal.

‘You and I need to talk together,’ said Bjorn sharply, glaring at Olvir.

The two of them slung on cloaks and went out into the darkness. As the door closed behind them, all the women, and many of the men too, burst into gales of pent-up laughter.

‘I’ve never heard anything so funny!’ Asgerd practically wept with laughter. ‘Does he really think you’ll go and live all by yourself with him on the bare mountainside?’

‘And survive on fish?’ added Asdis, wiping her eyes.

‘He must be nearly thirty years old besides,’ chortled Asgerd. ‘His teeth are terrible and so’s his breath.’

‘I think it would be a very suitable marriage.’ Ragna spoke from beside the loom. She sounded annoyed. ‘What other offer is Thora likely to get? Besides, he loves her and she’ll never go hungry over there.’

‘He hardly knows her,’ exclaimed Asgerd. ‘He just thinks she’ll make a good mother and cook and she can heal his cuts whenever he’s been roaming as a werewolf at night.’

Erik threw back his head and pretended to howl, and everyone except Ragna laughed again. Ragna snorted and turned back to the loom. ‘More fool you, Thora, to throw away this chance,’ she said.

I felt a coldness steal into my heart. I realized Ragna had probably suggested this marriage to Olvir. That’s what they’d been talking about with such animation on the way back from Helgi’s. She’d seemed friendlier to me, but she wanted me out of her home just the same. I should have known better than to expect anything like real kindness from her.

‘I’m sure lots of men will want to marry Thora,’ Asgerd defended me loyally, coming to sit next to me and putting an arm around me. ‘So beautiful as you are,’ she added more softly to me.

The sudden kindness coming on top of so much unwelcome attention made me want to cry. I could feel tears stinging my eyes. Such weakness, I thought, blinking them back. But I still wasn’t strong, and my throat burned with the effort.

Bjorn returned alone from his walk.

‘Where’s our guest?’ demanded Ragna at once. ‘What have you said to him?’

‘He’ll be back in a moment,’ said Bjorn briefly. ‘Thora, a word with you, please.’

I got to my feet, unsure what Bjorn wanted to say to me. He nodded to me to follow him towards the far end of the house. We walked until we reached the animal stalls. Here it was dimly lit and cold, far from the fire. Just one oil lamp burned in a niche in the wall, so that the animals weren’t in complete darkness. The cows’ steamy breath misted the air, smelling of hay. Ulf and Grim were grooming the horses, but Bjorn sent them away. I was glad that Ulf hadn’t been listening when the others made fun of his father.

This was probably the only place to hold a private conversation in such a full house. I wondered what Bjorn wanted to say. A dreadful doubt seized me that he might want to urge the marriage proposal. I didn’t think I could bear that.

‘Thora,’ Bjorn began. He took a few paces away from me and then back again. He set his hands on my shoulders and looked earnestly at me. ‘This proposal. I know I must accept that you’ll marry someone. It would be better for you. But … I don’t advise this.’

His words were hurried, urgent and low. They filled me with relief.

‘I’m sure he’s a good man,’ he added. ‘But it would be no kind of life for you, over there. I’d fear for you.’ Bjorn paused. He let go of me and turned away, leaning his head and forearms against a partition wall. He was breathing heavily. I stood in silence, struggling to gather my thoughts.

‘I wasn’t thinking … of accepting … ’ I began hesitantly.

Bjorn let out a sigh of relief and turned back to face me.

‘You’re quite sure?’ he asked. ‘Do you want me to tell him?’

I looked at his face, the way his dark curls tumbled to his shoulders and his eyes shone in the faint lamplight and my heart filled with love for him. His face was creased with anxiety and there was no trace of the smile I loved. I wanted to reach up and smooth his frown away. I wanted to reassure him that I cared only for him. But I would never, ever be able to tell him that.

I understood why Ragna wanted me out of her house. I
was
a danger to her. My love for Bjorn was as deep as ever. If anything, it had grown stronger. At this moment, as we stood in the semi-darkness together, I felt that he loved me too. Ragna could come between us, but she couldn’t destroy the way we felt. In that moment, I realized that I
should
leave here. But I couldn’t marry Olvir.

Bjorn was still waiting for my answer.

‘Yes, please tell him,’ I managed to say. ‘Thank him, but it’s definitely no.’

Bjorn gripped my shoulder a moment and then left me.

I stood quite still, listening to the cattle munching, the horses shifting their weight and snorting through their feed trough. It was peaceful here, but I was in turmoil. Before I could even begin to recover my composure, a large figure approached.

‘Thora?’ he said. It was Thrang’s voice. His presence irritated me. I wanted to be alone to think about what had happened, to reflect on the undercurrents of feelings that I sensed running between Bjorn and me.

‘What did you tell him?’ Thrang asked.

‘I said no,’ I answered.

Thrang nodded. He stood still beside me. I felt awkward and made a move to rejoin the others, little as I wished to hear their questions and teasing. Thrang stopped me with a hand on my arm.

‘Wait,’ he said. Then he said nothing for some time. For so long that I thought I must have misheard him. Then at last he spoke and his voice was even more gruff and hoarse than usual.

‘What they were saying, before. This won’t be your only proposal,’ he said. ‘Because I … well … the thing is … I should like you to consider marrying me.’

I was stunned. I stood gaping at Thrang, unable to believe what I was hearing.

‘You were destined to sail the seas,’ he said, an ardent note creeping into his voice. ‘I’ve seen it. You are completely at home aboard a ship. Marry me and follow your destiny.’ As he spoke, Thrang moved closer to me and I backed away until I was up against a door to one of the stalls. A horse put his head over the door and nudged me in the back, pushing me into Thrang’s arms. He clutched me as though I were a barrel of mead, crushing me in his embrace.

‘Marry me,’ he repeated, bending down to try and kiss me.

I struggled to be free, pushing against his chest.

‘Please … don’t,’ I cried. Thrang released me and we stood staring at one another. My face was hot with embarrassment. I was badly shaken. If I’d heard these scenes in a story, I would have laughed. But there was nothing funny about being caught in the middle of it myself. It was all so completely unexpected. I’d had no idea either of these men cared for me in that way. Their auras had shown me nothing. Or perhaps I hadn’t looked closely enough.

‘You … you’re a good man,’ I stammered. Then my voice grew stronger: ‘I respect you. I like you. But I couldn’t live my life at sea. I belong on land.’

‘There’s another side to you,’ insisted Thrang.

I shook my head mutely. If only he would go away and leave me in peace. I dreaded Bjorn finding me in the middle of this scene so soon after the last. It was humiliating. Perhaps I should have felt flattered at all this attention, but I didn’t. There was no pleasure in rejecting men of honour and courage when they laid bare their feelings.

‘Please, Thora, consider what I’ve said,’ said Thrang. He turned and left. I sank down on the cold, bare floor and put my head in my hands, dry eyed and miserable. How could it be that two men wanted to marry me, while the man I loved with all my heart was tied to another?

Frozen Snow Month

Þorri

Neither Olvir nor Thrang spoke of their proposals again and, to my huge relief, Olvir soon took his leave. I gradually recovered my equanimity. And there was a new source of interest, which prevented me becoming the subject of too much gossip. We all discovered what Bjorn and Helgi had been discussing so intently at Yule. All our men were to spend some portion of each day training in arms. Helgi had promised to instruct them in sword fighting. Bjorn claimed he wanted the household to be able to protect itself from pirates and raiders. I knew that Bjorn was afraid of vengeance killers pursuing us from Norway when spring came.

How Bjorn had explained to Helgi that he was ignorant of skills that any Viking chieftain would have learned as soon as he could walk, I had no idea. But every afternoon throughout Ram Month and into Thorri Month, after the chores had been done, the men of both households met to fight with swords, wrestle, and learn to wield a battleaxe.

‘Tell me, Thora,’ said Ragna, sitting down beside me one evening, as we all listened to the sound of iron clashing and men’s shouts outside. ‘Why would a master want to teach his slaves to fight? It seems a dangerous thing to do.’

Her voice was civil as it usually was when she spoke to me now. But her aura showed no kindness as she looked at me. I knew she hadn’t forgiven me for refusing Olvir.

‘They will all be free men half a year from now,’ I said. ‘Bjorn probably feels he owes it to them to be able to defend themselves.’ I felt her stiffen in shock beside me.

‘Free men? What can you be talking about?’ she demanded.

I realized that no one had spoken to her of the bargain Bjorn had offered our people.

‘Bjorn offered them their freedom if they gave him a year’s labour in the new land,’ I explained carefully. Her face was a mask of shock and anger.

‘What was he thinking of?’ demanded Ragna. ‘How can he run a farm with no slaves?’

‘Most won’t leave,’ I reassured her. ‘It’s not easy to set up a household with no tools, no stock, and no wood for building. But they will have the choice. To leave or to stay and work for a wage.’

Ragna sat rigid by the fireside, clenching and unclenching her fists. She was muttering to herself. I moved away, but heard the word ‘madness’ repeated again and again.

The men had finished fighting now. Distantly, I could hear them laughing and joking as they stripped and climbed into the hot bathing pool. But when Helgi’s men had gone home and Bjorn returned for nightmeal, Ragna took him aside. We could all hear the suppressed rage in her voice and feel the fury in her wild gesticulations. I could also see the rage of her colours as she argued with him. Bjorn stayed calm, arms folded, but around him too, I could make out pulses of anger. I could imagine the kind of things she was saying about slaves and how that would make him feel. But despite his anger, he had a glow of compassion and kindness. It was a constant colour, an inherent part of his personality. He wouldn’t give in to Ragna, but neither would he hold this against her. He would stay polite to her, but distant, as always.

A few days later, a messenger arrived from Helgi’s just as the men were about to set out. He spoke to Bjorn.

‘Bera asks whether Thora could accompany the men when they come to Helgi’s today,’ he said. ‘She’s worried about the baby.’

I looked to Ragna for permission, wondering what her reaction would be. But she said yes at once and even smiled. I felt uneasy, wondering what her motive could be. I climbed into the sleeping loft and unlocked my chest, selecting a few items that were likely to be needed and then locked the chest again, tucking the key into a pocket in my tunic.

When I came back down the ladder, I found that Ragna had told Ulf he must stay behind today. His face wore a sulky look, for he loved to learn to fight with the men. To my surprise he stopped me on my way out of the door and hugged me. He wasn’t prone to displays of affection. I couldn’t help feeling that something strange was going on. But Ulf’s aura was mainly resentful, which didn’t surprise me. I hugged him back, ruffled his hair and reminded him that Helgi’s men would be coming to us the next day.

As I stepped out into the darkness, I saw Bjorn had ordered the horse saddled for me. He insisted on lifting me into the saddle and leading her himself. I was touched by his kindness and glad of his company.

Snow had fallen again in the night and the men waded calf deep into the fresh, powdery fall, creating a path for us to follow. A bitterly cold wind was blowing in from the sea and I was soon shivering, almost wishing I was walking not riding. I buried my hands in the horse’s mane and hunched my shoulders against the wind. I concentrated on watching the wind whipping Bjorn’s hair back from his face just ahead of me and on the colours glowing around his head and shoulders, bright in the darkness.