Shieldmaiden (36 page)

‘What ails my eldest son?'

‘I'm nobody's son.'

Ragnar looked at me. ‘I thought you weren't going to tell him.'

‘His grandmother insisted.' His eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose and his eyes turned black. He sat with his head bowed for a moment then he said through gritted teeth:

‘I suppose it is her right.' He got up and took Olvir out of my numb arms. ‘We shall seek healing at Odin's temple. Come.'

It was just the three of us. I left a message for Mother with Anlaf. Then we rode across the fields and meadows into the pine forest and along the track we had followed when we first arrived at Lade. Ragnar held Olvir in front of him on his large stallion, Raven. I followed on Thorfinn's horse and led a small mare by her bridle. It was almost two full moons since the summer solstice. The evening closed in and here among the trees it was getting dark.

‘Had we better stop for the night?' I asked but Ragnar shook his head.

‘For this to work we must be there for sunrise. Don't worry about the horses. They know this path. We came here often when we were hiding out.'

Even the light of a crescent moon would have helped but it was overcast and not until we arrived at the clearing did it become light enough to see. Ragnar left me holding Olvir and set to building a fire in a small circle of rocks already black from earlier camps.

‘We stayed here several times,' he said. ‘Sit here. You can lean against this stone. How's my son? Is he asleep?'

Olvir lay slack-limbed on my lap. His eyes were open and stared with an empty pain no child should have to bear. I didn't dare let go of him. I sat with my back against one of the carved stones lining the path to the temple. Ragnar lay down next to us. He stayed silent but throughout the night he kept the fire going. I began to speak of my brother to Olvir and maybe I was speaking to myself as well. Since Steinar's head had been set on a stake on traitors' island I had shut away all thought and all feeling about him. But here, in the holy grove with the flames of the fire dancing shadows around me, I felt the presence of my brother.

I spoke of our childhood at Becklund, our games and our quarrels. I spoke of the day our father was killed and we both failed to avenge him. I spoke of his son Olvir, his courage and steadfastness, how he had stayed with me at Brunnanburh, stood by me when I was without friends and helped me save the King's life. I talked and cried and the night passed.

‘Steinar, I know you are feasting with our father and his warriors in Valhalla. I know the ancient law says you took the honourable path. I chose to live and make a future for our children, your son and mine. Maybe I was wrong. Oh my brother, if I had known it was you! I mourn you and I crave your forgiveness.'

A gust of wind made the tree tops sing and the first ray from the sun fell on my face. It felt like a soothing caress. Olvir opened his eyes. He sat up and looked at the trees above him. He raised his arms towards the swaying branches.

‘Can you hear him Sigrid? Listen, he whispers with the wind. He's forgiven us.'

Olvir fell asleep. We made him comfortable and sat down a short distance away.

‘It's not the end of it though, is it Ragnar?' He was silent for a long while before he put his arm around me and answered:

‘Your brother was not a vengeful man. He chose his path and you chose yours. He will have forgiven you. Olvir heard it and I think he was right.'

‘Yes, I don't believe Steinar wants retribution. But the gods? It's their commandments I have violated.'

‘I honestly don't know, Sigrid.' The thoughts and worries I had tried to ignore must be acknowledged. I could keep it to myself no longer.

‘Can we sail the North Sea in this state?'

‘I brought three horses.'

‘Yes, I realise. But can we do it on our own? A horse? They're not like sheep and cattle. They know what the stone is for. They fight and struggle.'

‘Raven.'

‘Ragnar, you can't sacrifice Raven! Your own horse!'

‘For this I shall. Come, there's no point in delaying this.' He got up and helped me to my feet. Then he fetched Raven. The beautiful creature followed him with complete trust into the temple and up to the offer-stone. I collected the embers from our fire and in front of Odin's likeness I burnt wild sage and juniper. I breathed in the powerful aroma and intoned the sacred chant to attract the attention of the mighty. Raven trembled. Ragnar spoke quietly to him and stroked his muzzle. They stood together Ragnar and the faithful horse that had carried him safely away and shared his time as a fugitive. Ragnar made the horse bend its front legs, like he was kneeling in front of the altar. Then with a movement so swift I never saw the beginning of it, Ragnar lifted his axe. One blow of the millsharpened blade severed Raven's head from his body. It fell sideways. The legs thrashed and kicked. Blood spurted from the neck. I used my apron to soak it up and daub the mighty pillars and carved likenesses. Ragnar stood with lowered head next to Raven's body. His trews were soaked in blood and his lips moved silently.

It was time to open the animal and read the intestines. I put more herbs on the fire and stood in the smoke swaying and chanting until I felt my mind opening up. It was more powerful than I had ever experienced before. I tried to say the sacred words but my tongue swelled in my mouth and I struggled to move my lips. Odin's single eye fixed on me and grew and grew until it was all I could see. I was alone in a mist with the staring, all-seeing eye. I fumbled for my knife. It seemed to tremble and wriggle in my hand. I called on Odin to aid my sight. I put the point between Raven's front legs and pressed until it pierced the hide. Then I slit the stomach open. Entrails spilled out on the stone floor like a clutch of writhing snakes. The sickly smell of undigested grass and dung filled my nostrils. I reached inside the carcass for the liver. I held it up to the image of the god. It felt heavy. Blood drained from it down my arms. Then I saw that it was a vile thing I offered to the god. It was swollen and pitted and dark green in colour. It gave off a foul stench. My whole body was seized with trembling. I wanted to shout to the god and beseech him not to reject my offering. But my voice made strange sounds, words without meaning. The god bore down on me. He picked me up and carried me high, through the roof and into a thick cloud.

‘Sigrid! Sigrid! Wake up.' Ragnar's voice. Why was he calling me? I wanted to sleep. Now he shook me as well. Why couldn't he let me sleep? I opened my eyes. I was lying on the ground with the cloudless sky above me and the clean grass under my body. I turned away and was sick on the ground. Olvir, his eyes large and frightened handed me a leather flask with water. I rinsed my mouth. Then I swallowed a mouthful and, realising how thirsty I was, I emptied the whole skin. Ragnar sent Olvir to collect more water before he turned to me.

‘What happened to you in there? Was it the smoke? It was heavy, I felt quite dizzy myself.'

‘The liver was spoilt, Ragnar. You sacrificed Raven in vain. The gods will not forgive me.'

‘No, no, I saw the liver. There was nothing wrong with it. You had a bad turn from the smoke. The gods accepted the gift. ' I shook my head but he had got up and entered the temple. When he returned he carried the roasted liver on a stick.

‘Here, look at it. There's nothing wrong with it. We shall share it to honour the gods.' He handed a piece each to Olvir and me. I looked at it. It seemed perfectly healthy. Ragnar and Olvir bit off mouthfuls and chewed. I cut off a small piece and put it in my mouth. I had no time to chew or swallow. I was immediately sick. Ragnar blamed it on the potent herbs I had breathed in and would hear no other. I tried to join in his and Olvir's joyous relief. But, while I was comforted to know that Odin had accepted a sacrifice from Ragnar and looked on him with favour, I couldn't rid myself of the memory of what I had seen. I knew the gods demanded another sacrifice from me and would exact it when it suited them.

29.

‘Oars out,' called Ragnar and the rowers on the harbour-side pushed Storm-Wolf away from the pier and out into the Nidaros harbour. The crew cheered and the crowd who had come to see us off joined in. I looked around for Kveldulf. He stood in the stern, next to Ragnar, legs planted firmly apart, thumbs hooked into his belt, every inch of his four-year old frame showing him for the warrior he was destined to be.

Storm-Wolf moved out of the harbour leaving the piers and the walkway with the houses and workshops behind. In the distance the mountains loomed half-veiled in the drizzle. I waved to my mother until she was but a small figure among the others. Then I went to sit with Archbishop Wolfstan. He nodded and made room for me next to him by the mast. I sat on a chest, a last gift to me from my uncle Hakon. He had made a big show of filling it with precious gifts; a silk gown, golden candle-sticks, silver coins and a large silver cross with the god Jesus hanging on it. I determined to sell that last item at the first opportunity.

Next to me Olvir was still waving. He too had received precious gifts from both the Jarl and the King, at least we thought the box of silver coins, the suit of clothes and the fur-lined cloak must be from those two. I reassured Olvir that, as the gifts were anonymous, there was no need to thank anyone.

‘But why don't they say?'

‘So you won't have a reason to say, ‘I told you so', about the nithings who planned to kill the King.'

‘And they should apologise. They weren't very nice to me then.' It offended the child's sense of fairness and I had to explain that kings and jarls never apologise as their positions mean they must never be seen to be in the wrong.

‘Everybody's wrong sometime,' he muttered.

I sent him to join Kveldulf and Ragnar in the prow.

‘Make sure Kveldulf is safe and not in the way,' I said but the real reason was to distract him. I caught Ragnar's eye over the heads of the crew. He saw Olvir clambering towards him and nodded. I kept my eyes on the Lade-peninsula to my right in order to avoid looking at the island we had to pass on our way out of the fiord. All I wanted was to leave it behind. Thorfinn steered a course as far out from it as possible. I mustn't dwell on what the island held. I looked at the men in front of me, pulling at their oars, some with smiles some with frowns and some with dreamy expressions. They began humming to the rhythm Thorfinn set and the ship gained pace.

I could look away. I could shut my eyes. But the sky filled with the torturous screams of savage, scavenging birds and that sound would not be shut out. They shrieked like demons of death and laughed like callous creatures from Helheim.

‘No, don't look that way!' I heard Ragnar shout. I saw him covering Olvir's eyes. Olvir screamed and struggled. Ragnar pressed the boy's face to his shoulder, rocking him slowly from side to side. He talked quietly to Olvir as he held him.

‘What ails the lad?' asked the Archbishop. ‘I must say his father is very patient with him.' The disapproval in his voice riled me. I blinked away my tears, cleared my throat and answered:

‘Olvir is not Ragnar's son, nor mine. His father's head is among the ones you can see on the island over there, stuck on a spear on Traitors' Row. He was my brother, he...' I tried to say more but my chest contracted, air could not reach my lungs and my voice died. I covered my face to stifle my sobs then I gave in and cried into my pinafore.

‘Ah yes, of course,' I heard the Archbishop say to himself.

The crew stopped singing and silence spread across the ship. I wiped my face, straightened my apron and looked at the men in front of me. They all had one hand off the oar to touch their amulets. Some clutched Thor's hammers, some the cross of the Christ, others had both of these and other tokens as well. We had passed the island and they were all now facing it. They may have tried to avert their eyes but the screams of the birds, as they fought over the ragged remains of the traitors' heads, forced their gaze in that direction. We all searched the sky and saw gulls, shiny white or granite grey and the fast flapping skuas. But of the brilliant, black ravens, Odin's messengers, there was no sign to say that the Lord of Law and Wisdom had accepted the king's judgement on my brother.

‘Put your backs into it, you vermin off a dog's scabby pelt!' Thorfinn's booming voice made the men grip their oars with both hands. They had lost their rhythm and some of the oars on the starboard side clashed. Thorfinn roared and in a couple of strokes the smooth movement of men pulling their oars in unison was restored. There was no need to move so fast out of the fiord but nobody seemed to mind. It is a sobering thought that, at some time or other, we had all been somebody's enemy and could, if the gods had so willed it, have ended up with our heads on the end of a stake, our eyes and tongues pecked by carrion-birds. All were relieved to leave the sight of Traitors' Island behind.

As the fiord widened and the sea lay endless before us, the rain stopped and a pale sun showed through the wispy clouds. Ragnar ordered the sail to be raised. The spar was lifted off its crutches and the men began the heavy work of pulling it and the sail to the top of the mast. The sail, unwieldy and wet from the earlier drizzle, sprayed those underneath it with a cold shower. The men laughed and swore and pulled harder at the seal-skin ropes. The sail hung like a tired sack. Then it gave a small flap, as if testing the wind. Soon the green and brown stripes filled out and we were on our way. The oars were pulled onboard and stored in the middle of the ship. Men made themselves comfortable, sprawling on the crossbars wrapped in their cloaks with their caps pulled over their eyes to sleep off the drink from last night's feasting. Others brought out hnefatafl boards or dice and looked for opponents willing to accept a challenge.

‘Noooo!' I started at the sound of Kveldulf 's furious scream. He was trying to wriggle out of the harness Ragnar had fitted him with and tied to the nearest cross-bar. ‘I'm too big for that! Far, please! Olvir doesn't have one.' Ragnar laughed and tested his son's tether, straightened his tunic and ruffled his hair. He spoke to Olvir who nodded and turned to watch the sea in front. Ragnar, with frequent stops to exchange a few words with the men, made his way down the ship towards me. He was still grinning and his green eyes held mine.