Loki's Daughters (26 page)

"We will do your cooking then, Viking, if you are so bad at it. You will provide what must be cooked."

His blue eyes widened suddenly. Perhaps he had not thought he would win a point so quickly. Looking about her, she saw the women were as equally taken aback.

"And we will spin and dye and weave. We will do the chores that have always been for women to do, and you will provide in the way men do. But we will not share our houses with you, or clean up after you. You will live south of the stream only, and we will stay to the north. You will not come to our houses."

"But if something needs repair?"

"We will negotiate it. And if a man has a need for a service that is not usual, that will be negotiated."

"It would best be done if a man chooses a household and provides for it." One dark eyebrow arched expectantly.

She saw the guile behind the seemingly innocent suggestion. "Nay, for we do not wish your companionship. You asked only how we may get along together in the same valley. You will bring your provisions here, to this place. We will divide them up and return them properly prepared here, to this place. You will bring your laundry or mending here, and it will be returned here. The wool, when it is sheared, will be dealt with here. And we will decide among us who will do which task."

"It need not be so complicated, Arienh."

She knew it. She didn't want what she asked for, either, but it was necessary. "I find it easier. Then we need not worry about what game you may be playing. You are sly, Viking, but we will not be fooled. We will not become wives to heathens."

He shrugged and his bright blue eyes took on a merry twinkle. "If that is all, we will convert. Send for your priest."

"We do not send for Father Hewil. He comes when he comes."

"Then we will wait. He cannot be long."

Any day now, but she would not say it. "He will not be seduced thus."

"Nay, he will accept us. We will become Christians for you."

And how could she oppose him then? Simply wearing the cross would not change him or his heathen customs. "For the wrong reason, clearly, for your heart is not in it. But that is far from all. You cannot so blithely wipe out all that has been done to us."

"'Tis so, you have lost much, and nothing can change that. But we did not do any of it, for all that you blame us. We offer you help, not more pain."

And she wanted what he offered. Oh, how she wanted it. Arienh raked her eyes over the gathering of men. "You carry battle axes and swords even now. Can you tell me none of you have ever raided? Have you never killed a man, Viking? You swing your sword like a man who has done so many times."

"And who better to defend you from Vikings than one who knows the sword? We will carry our swords, Arienh, for the danger of a man like Hrolgar lurks at all times. And we shall post a man from dawn to twilight every day atop the cliff that overlooks the sea so that none may catch us unawares. We will do what men must do. We ask only that you do as well for us."

"Aye. We agree. But we will not be your wives. And we will keep to ourselves."

"And no more pranks."

"If you leave us alone, we will leave you alone."

"We will accept."

At that, Arienh turned away. Temptation clawed at her, but she resisted and strode on through the gathering of women who parted for her passing, then followed her.

"Pardon me, brother, but will you tell me what we have won?"

Ronan allowed his gaze to follow after the departing women before replying to Egil's snide remark. "It is a crack. And everywhere there is a crack, we will fill it."

"Huh," sniffed Bjorn. "These women will make slaves of all of you. Bunch of fools. Didn't anyone ever tell you men are supposed to run things?"

"Bjorn has a point," said Olav, a heavy frown furrowing his brow. "I don't know what you hope to gain."

"The point is to win their trust. When they begin to do things for us and accept things from us, they will begin to trust us."

"If they don't put an arrow through someone's heart first."

Ronan chuckled. He doubted the women had the courage to take it that far. "You are not Northmen if you cannot see the opportunities here. How close will you have to get to teach them to shoot?"

A murmuring hum spread through the men.

"Do you really think they can do it, Ronan?" Olav asked.

"They're Loki's daughters, aren't they? They will give up the idea of defending themselves eventually, once they learn how hard it is. And when they begin to let us defend them, we will have won the battle. Tomorrow we'll begin with choosing the wood. Olav, keep an eye out for a beehive, for the wax. And Bjorn can get busy forging arrowheads."

"Bunch of fools. Give a woman a foot and she'll take a whole damn furlong." snarled Bjorn. With a great, gruff noise, he stalked away.

But Tanni's boyish face erupted in a wide grin. "Nay, Ronan, I think as you do. 'Tis willing women who give the best pleasure. And the price is not so awful."

"Aye," said Egil, "I'll have mine willing or not at all. But it seems to me we have lost ground, not gained it. We have just agreed to stay away from them."

"Find the cracks and fill them," Ronan repeated.

"When we cannot go near them?"

"Oh, ignore that."

"Ignore it?"

He grinned. "For good enough reason, of course. But you can think of something. Just make the opportunities."

Egil stared at him as if he were suddenly speaking a language none of them understood. Then slowly a broad, wicked grin spread beneath the long, yellow moustache that draped across his face. "Aye. And I think I just found mine."

***

Mildread stood with her girls by the huge old oak on the green and watched the crowd fade away. She had listened, but her heart had not been in what was said. She had tried hard to watch the dark-haired Viking and Arienh, but her gaze kept slipping to Olav, standing among his comrades with his arms folded. Only once had his slate blue eyes looked at her, then slid away with a mild disdain. Although tall like the others, he was slimmer, more like a normal man, and handsome in a rather normal way. Once, when he had first come here, he had looked upon her with interest. But he never would again.

Although dark-haired Ronan had plucked her girls from beneath the very noses of the raiders, it had been Olav who had carried them up the trail when they were too exhausted and terrified to keep going. He had run with them all the way to the cavern, not even pausing to allow her to help. She had not understood at the time, but now she did. If his friends had not succeeded in holding back the intruders, her girls would never have made it to the cavern safely.

"Go to your Aunt Elli," she told the girls. "I have something I must do."

Mildread walked alone along the trail that led down toward the Bride's Well, and when she reached the cutoff that led through the south forest to the sea, she climbed the gentle rise. At an outcropping of grey rock within an ash grove, she stopped, then bent and dug beneath the old leaves, rooting around with her hands where she could not see.

She felt first the wooden handle, then the spreading width of the iron blade. She lifted up the axe into the dappled sunlight.

"I thought you knew where it was."

Olav. And she held his missing axe in her hands. She was too ashamed even to blush. "I meant to return it to you."

"Did you? Or merely to see if it was still there?" He took the axe from her hand, his fingers running over the blade.

"I stole it and hid it. But I meant to give it back. I was wrong, and I was wrong to lead you off into the woods and get you lost."

Nothing in his solemn face changed. "The first, I blame on you. The second was my own stupidity. You could at least say thank you."

"For my girls. I-yes, thank you."

"It is rusting."

"I'm sorry. I don't suppose you will ever trust me again."

The slate blue eyes regarded her slowly as he tucked the axe handle into his belt. "Perhaps. When you begin to trust us."

Olav turned and walked down the hill as silently as he had come, leaving Mildread standing alone.

***

Smoky heat from the fat-soaked torches warmed the cavern's damp air. A nervous excitement infused the women who stood there with the lone man, Old Ferris with his brooding rage. Arienh was glad she had asked Selma's older cousin to keep the children while they talked, for Old Ferris loved nothing more than stirring up the children.

"You have betrayed us all, Arienh," shouted Ferris, his finger shaking in her face. "Your father, your mother, all of them, all of us. There is no bargaining with their kind."

"Oh, be quiet, old man," said Mildread, folding her arms as she faced him. "You are letting your hatred think for you."

Ferris whirled on Mildread, rage blooming like roses in his cheeks. "It seems I am the only one who thinks. They killed your husband."

"My husband died of his own malingering."

"And who would not, with his manhood destroyed?"

"His manhood worked just fine. It was the rest of him that would not."

A muffled giggle spread through the crowd of women, and Old Ferris's black eyes widened. "And you think a Viking will serve you better?"

"I said nothing of that, Old Ferris, but none can deny they are hard workers. These are not bad men. We all would have died today if it were not for them. You, as well."

"I care not if I live or die. I just want them dead. I want all Vikings dead."

"Then kill them yourself. I will not help you."

"Nor I," said Birgit.

Ferris sneered, and his eyes seemed to sizzle as he turned on Birgit. "As if you could. The big blond one turns your head, does he, Birgit? Well, he is about the best that you could do, but even he will turn on you, for they have no use for invalids. Not even a Viking wants a blind wife. When they discover how helpless you are, they will not even let you live, and it will be your sister's fault, for she has sold us all to the heathens."

Birgit stiffened her back, seeming to grow taller. Perhaps her outrageous courage came from years of facing down Ferris's taunts. "Nay, the fault will be my own. But I will not hide, and I do not fear they will kill me."

"Huh. You are cowards, all of you. You dishonor the Celtic women of old, who fought beside their men. You are afraid to do what must be done."

Birgit shrugged, and a bitter smile wobbled on her face. "Oh, well, we are just ordinary women."

Ferris faced the crowd of women, glaring, studying each face separately, finding no support among them. Arienh doubted if anyone regretted Old Ferris stomping out of the cavern, only that he dragged his reluctant granddaughter after him. Perhaps some of the women even speculated on just how much of a shove it might take to topple him into the pit, but more likely, like her, they remembered a time when the old man had not been so consumed with rage. All that had changed when his son died.

Arienh regretted more for Elli than for Ferris. Poor Elli, for no matter how she tried, she could never please the old man, never replace his lost son. Yet Elli could never stop trying.