Loki's Daughters (37 page)

Liam sat up, wakened as surely as if he had been swatted. "Nay, Egil, don't go."

But the huge blond man shook his head. "'Tis time, lad. We've been here three nights, and we should be going home. You are well enough. Listen to your uncle, and go back to sleep." "Uncle?"

"He's not-" Arienh stammered.

Birgit smiled. Arienh was far too tired to engage her usual wit. The battle was lost, anyway. Didn't she know it?

"Mama."

"Sleep, Liam," she said as she watched the two men, dark and light shades of each other, unbar the door and exit into the chilly night.

"Mama, I want Egil for my father."

She knew. The Vikings were right. All boys desperately needed fathers. It was something God had put in their hearts, from the beginning of time. It was what Liam needed most.

She didn't know how she could survive it. She couldn't, really. She had lived only for Liam for so long, she knew no other way. If only Egil would love her, too, as she knew he would love the boy. But no man had wanted her, once he learned her sight was fading, and no man would. There was too much a wife must do that she could not.

Ronan. Arienh. They belonged together. Arienh needed a love, needed her own children
 
For years, Arienh had been taking care of everybody. It was almost a joke, the way people had begun to turn to her when she was little more than a girl and expected her to have all the answers, solve all the problems. Arienh had taken care of everything for so long, she had lost track of who she was meant to be.

Birgit was in the way, between Arienh and Ronan, between Liam and Egil. She stood in the way of happiness for everyone in the village.

Perhaps there was something in that strange Viking custom that made sense after all, and it did not seem so different than the martyrdom of the saints. If it came down to a matter between her life and Liam's, she knew what she would choose. But she was neither saint nor martyr. Only a useless woman in everyone's way.

Besides, she would not be able to make the cloth for Arienh's down blanket, and she wanted so badly to do that, for the sister who had done everything for her.

The cliffs, above the Bride's Well.

Egil was afraid of the high cliffs. Birgit was not. But then, she could not see what was at the bottom. She would not see the danger until it was too late.

But it was a sin. An unforgivable one. And she was no saint.

I'll do the best I can for you, son
, she said, but only to herself.

***

It was a strange thing, to wake with the sudden knowledge of having slept, when Arienh could barely remember having touched the bed. Perhaps the turmoil she had expected to keep her awake had lulled her instead.

Arienh studied the motes floating in the narrow shaft of warm sunlight from the little slit of a window.

Liam. She could hear his small voice, pale like the dimmest of light. And Birgit sat on the bed beside him.

Arienh rose. She rubbed her back, convinced it ached all the way down to her toes. Before seeing to her morning needs she went to Liam's bedside.

"Morning, Aunt," the boy said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't, Liam, it is time to wake. I see the sun has been up for a while. How do you feel this morning?"

The boy wrinkled his brow, and along with it, his nose, as if he had to think about it. "It still hurts."

Arienh washed the mud pack and examined the wound. The tissue beneath it was healthy, living. "It will, for a while. I am not convinced the poison is all gone yet, but I think you were lucky. Maybe it was a weak snake and didn't have much poison."

"It didn't look weak, Aunt."

She had seen the head. It was a good-sized snake. But who knew? Perhaps all she had done had worked after all. "Perhaps it is because you are strong, or it is God's will. But you must never take such a chance again, Liam. We would be very unhappy without you."

"I don't think Egil will take me now."

Arienh exchanged a glance with Birgit. "Take you? Did he plan to?"

"Aye. He said we will go hunting and fishing together. And we'll go into the hills and find the nettles for Mama to weave."

"Liam, you belong with your mother."

"Can't I have both, Aunt? I want him to be my father."

What was she to say? She did not want to turn him against the big man he adored. She doubted if she could. And she knew Liam understood the circumstances, the danger to his mother. It was not his fault, but he was just like all the others. He expected Arienh to solve an impossible problem. Sometimes she felt like she was drowning, fighting against the water, with huge waves washing over her, yet with everyone else calling out to her to save them.

"We will just use herb poultices now, I think, Liam. And I think you must be quiet for a while yet, until we are sure the poison is gone."

She repacked the dark wound with the pounded herbs and grease and wrapped a bandage around them, and went about her morning chores in a sickly sort of silence. Birgit, turning to her loom for the first time in days, avoided Arienh's glances. Usually Birgit's pale green eyes would have followed her, obscuring the fact that Birgit could distinguish little more than the movement.

Liam slept again, for Arienh had given him the last of the lettuce syrup.

Arienh tightened her jaw with the silent rage building in her, bit by tiny bit, making her want to slam things around. Instead, she made conscious effort to place everything very carefully, exactly where it should be.

"Stop banging things around, Arienh."

"I am not banging things around." She meant to whisper, but the words came out like a shout. "What is the matter with you, Birgit?"

"Matter? Nay, I am fine. What is it that ails you?"

"You heard what Liam said."

"Aye. Perhaps he merely means to continue as he has been doing."

"You know better."

"Nay, I do not." The shuttle swished quietly.

"How could you be so foolish? Don't you see the danger?"

"I see very little, Arienh."

Arienh's fists balled so tightly, her fingernails cut into her palms. "Oh, do not think you will toy with me. You know very well what I mean. It is you who are in danger, Birgit, yet you all but invited the man to kiss you."

"It is so. And I know the danger. I do not deny it."

"I am trying to protect you from him, Birgit. The whole village tries to protect you, yet you ignore our efforts and throw yourself into the midst of danger."

The shuttle ceased. Birgit's eyes hardened. "I know what you do for me. I know how useless and helpless I am."

"You are not useless and helpless."

"Yet you treat me that way. Nay, Arienh, I know I survive only by your good graces. But at least the Vikings would recognize it honestly."

"How dare you say such a thing?"

"Because it is true. They would not protect me and pretend it is out of caring. You do not value me, Arienh. You only see me as a useless burden, like a child, yet one with no potential."

"Nay, Birgit, you are only as useless as you see yourself. But if you are so determined to give up, I suppose I should not stand in your way."

Birgit shrugged. "It makes no difference. In any case, you will not give up. You never do."

The knife in Arienh's hand slammed down hard on the table. "You are right, Birgit. I never do. And I never will. Say what you will, you cannot goad me into anything else."

Arienh stomped out of the door.

"Leave it open," Birgit called.

"Do it yourself!" she shouted back as the door banged shut.

If Birgit thought herself so useless, could she imagine Arienh's fumbling hands on a loom? Birgit would sneer at the very best Arienh could do. How could she not see her own worth?

Thick moisture filled her eyes as she stalked down the path toward the river trail. She'd go into the hills to gather her own nettles. She did not need the Vikings to do that. And there were herbs to hunt, that would be showing their first tops about now, and she would know where to retrieve them when they were ready to be plucked from the ground. Besides, the stones needed to be moved. Beltane would soon be upon them. She had to...

There was too much to do. Like a devil wind, Arienh threw herself into her tasks. With fierce steps she hurried up the trail beside the stream, hardly noticing its rushing waters until she remembered she should check the progress of the sprouting horsetails on the marshier slopes of riverbank. Their odd sprouts poked pointed heads up everywhere. Nearby, she found meadowsweet showing. If it were only a little bit further along, it would be good for Liam's pain.

In the upper meadow, she found more nettle, and could see bare places where men had gathered last year's plants which had lain and rotted over the winter. But Arienh's concern was the new plant, already prickly in stem and leaf. As she yanked the plant from the moist earth with a firm grasp, the stickers flattened harmlessly. The root was not much, but when boiled, it would make an excellent elixir for Mildread's girls, who always suffered from the phlegm this time of year.

She next walked up the hill, past where Tanni pastured the sheep, and into the stone circle. For a moment, she only stood at its center, then turned to look back the way she had come. But she was alone this time, with only memories for company.

What had she expected? Had she not thoroughly chased him off once again? How could she want and not want? It made no sense to her. She felt all tangled inside.

That was why she was so angry, but she had taken it out on Birgit.

She moved the stones, counting off the marker posts, and noting to herself that some of them were badly decayed. It was her duty to replace them this year, lest they fall to ruin and be forgotten. Then those who came after her would not know how to count the days properly. She had never understood why the ancients had not used stones instead of wooden posts, but they had not. So she would follow the instructions she had received, and someday pass on the knowledge to another.

They had but a sennight to Beltane. She wondered if the Vikings celebrated it. They did not know about stone circles. Did they build great bonfires and drive the cattle between them, then stay up through the night, dancing and singing, and watch the sun rise over the stones? And take their sweethearts into secret, sheltered places among the trees and rocks?

That had not occurred to her before. Another secret the Celts had better keep to themselves.

She ambled through a mixed grove of beech and oak along the southern flank of the hill, down toward the narrow little canyon that contained the Bride's Well and its falls, thinking how good a bath would feel. The very thought calmed her jangled nerves. She spotted a patch of violets nestled among moss, and stopped. Of all the plants that flowered, violets were her favorite. Deep purple blossoms suspended above dark green leaves spoke something to her heart. She picked leaves regretfully, relishing the fragrant scent, wishing she did not have to damage the perfect plants. But violets, too, were good for the phlegm.

If she could have, she would have stayed there, among the violets, feeling calm and safe, hiding herself from all her troubles in the village. There were times when she would like to leave them all to their fate, but she couldn't. Perhaps they would have all been better off if she had not always been there to take over whenever one of them faltered. Perhaps they would have learned strength if she had not.