Sigrun's Secret (19 page)

‘Now I tell of Leola,’ she said. ‘She not a good girl. Leif shouldn’t marry her.’

‘I knew it!’ I exclaimed, both relieved to have my suspicions confirmed and alarmed for Leif’s sake. ‘Please, tell me what you know.’

Maria shook her head with a dark look. ‘First of all, she is cruel girl. Not because she stupid. Because she like it. You saw many hurts on me when I come here?’

‘You know I did,’ I agreed, wincing at the memory of the terrible bruises and cuts I’d helped to heal. ‘I assumed that it was Eadred who … ’ I paused, horrified. ‘You mean it wasn’t Eadred who beat you? It was Leola?’

‘Both,’ Maria told me, her voice hard as she remembered that time. ‘But Eadred, he get angry and hit. Then he stop. Not so bad. Leola, she also tie me and hurt me. Pull here,’ Maria held up a few strands of her hair and mimed it being yanked hard from her head. ‘One time she cut me with knife.’ Maria pulled up her sleeve, revealing a jagged scar on the tender skin of her forearm.

I gasped with shock. ‘Why?’ I asked.

‘She in bad mood,’ said Maria simply.

It was as though the temperature in the room had dropped. I shivered, imagining what Maria’s life had been like at the hands of Leola and her uncle.

‘And she greedy girl,’ said Maria. She leaned forward, an earnest look in her eyes. ‘She want dresses, jewellery, pretty things. She want to be rich.’

‘I thought she already was,’ I said. ‘Isn’t she a Saxon princess?’

‘Yes,’ Maria agreed, ‘but she want more. She come to Jorvik to find rich husband.’

‘That makes sense,’ I agreed. ‘I wonder who she has her eye on? Not Leif if she’s after great wealth or position.’

‘I not know,’ Maria shrugged. ‘She see many men, get presents, listen to sweet words. But one special one. She meet him secretly.’

‘But you don’t know who?’ I asked curiously. I thought if Maria knew that, we might have the identity of the father of her child. But to my disappointment, Maria shook her head.

That piece of information was likely to remain secret, I reflected. And after all, it was none of my concern.

I slept badly that night. My dreams were haunted by Maria’s stories of terror and violence. I tossed and turned and couldn’t settle. Morning took a long time to come. I must have dozed at last, because I woke to daylight peeping dimly into the cellar and Unn raking and building up the cooking fire.

Maria was silent at breakfast. I wondered if she regretted taking me into her confidence. Or perhaps the telling and reliving of her traumatic experiences had upset her yesterday. But when I caught her eye she smiled at me.

‘It’s strange being here with all the men away, isn’t it?’ I asked her.

‘Quiet,’ Maria agreed with a nod.

‘When they return … are you happy for them to know that you can speak?’ I asked tentatively.

Maria looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. I smiled, thinking now I had a real friend, one to talk to. And it didn’t need to be a secret.

Before we’d finished eating, there was a loud knock on the door. I started, spilling my porridge. I put down my bowl with a clatter and hurried up the stairs to answer the door. A tall man stood outside. ‘You are Sigrun Bjornsdottir?’ he asked me.

‘I am.’

‘The king has sent me to take you to see his son.’

The summons I’d been dreading. When the king had asked me to heal his son, I had thought and half hoped he would forget about it again, but clearly he hadn’t.

‘Will you come with me?’ I asked Maria. Her presence always made it so much easier to go into new houses, and I needed that courage more than ever today.

‘Of course,’ she said with a quick smile.

The slave waited while Maria and I readied ourselves. I washed my face, scrubbed quickly at my teeth, combed my hair and tied it in a scarf. I put on a clean apron dress, pinning it with my new silver brooches as I’d given my old ones to Maria.

The king’s house was the largest I’d seen in Jorvik. It reminded me of home in its layout and design; I felt a pang as I entered it. There was a large central long-fire, and trestle tables standing at the top of the hall. The king’s table was marked by his very grand, ornate high seat, presently unoccupied.

The slave showed us to a bench and told me his master would be with us shortly.

‘Do you think he means the king’s son or the king himself?’ I whispered nervously to Maria. She shrugged, looking around her.

‘Have you been here before?’ I asked.

Maria nodded. She knew the grand people of Jorvik far better than I did. As a silent slave she had seen and heard far more than her masters imagined. To them, she was an almost invisible being with no feelings.

‘What’s he like, the king’s son?’ I asked.

‘He’s here,’ Maria replied with a warning nudge. I jumped and scrambled to my feet as a tall, powerfully-built young man came across the room towards us. He resembled his younger brother: confident and used to having his own way. But I could see at once that he was in poor health. He looked pale and wasted, with an exhausted, washed-out look, and his attempt to walk without a limp didn’t fool me. He was in pain: I could see it in the way he moved and the amulet helped me feel it too.

‘You’re the healer my father thinks I should see?’ he asked, in a tone that clearly suggested I was wasting his time.

‘Yes. My name’s Sigrun,’ I said. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I doubt very much that you can,’ he said disparagingly, taking a seat near me. ‘I don’t intend to discuss my intimate body functions with a young woman.’

I felt flustered. Why was he so rude? Was that the way of kings’ sons? ‘I may be able to treat you,’ I pointed out. ‘And then you’ll feel better. Is it a stomach disorder that ails you?’

It was a guess, but a fairly safe one. Stomach disorders were rife in the city, and he had the look of it.

‘What if it is? I’m sure it will clear in time without any charms or spells of yours.’ His tone was deliberately offensive.

I rose to my feet, stung. I always offered my help freely if it was requested, and I’d never been ridiculed or treated rudely. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you,’ I said. ‘You clearly don’t want my advice. We’ll go now.’ I glanced over at Maria who had risen too, and we both began to walk towards the door. I felt humiliated, but was determined to retain my dignity.

‘Oh, come back, come back,’ cried Thorvald. ‘My father will never let me hear the last of it if I send you away!’

‘I only treat people who want my help,’ I said, pausing, and glancing back. ‘You clearly don’t.’

Thorvald got to his feet with an effort and walked towards us, grimacing fractionally as he put weight on his right leg. ‘Oh very well, I’ll admit, I’m worn out with this flux,’ he said.

I hesitated. I was still tempted to leave, king’s orders or not. I wasn’t convinced Thorvald was going to take me seriously.

‘I’ll behave myself, I promise,’ said Thorvald with a sigh. ‘For Odin’s sake, girl, let’s get this over with.’

Reluctantly I returned to where he threw himself back onto the bench with a half groan. I was tempted to point out that his tone was still not respectful, but decided to give him one more chance.

‘It probably
will
clear without medicine,’ I said, returning to his former remark. ‘But I may be able to shorten your suffering.’

‘Then for Odin’s sake do so,’ he muttered.

I asked him some questions about the nature of the disorder, which he answered reluctantly, about his general diet, and about how long he’d been suffering. He’d been unwell, it seemed, for a long time. It was clearly one of those illnesses that lodges in the gut and won’t shift.

I left my runes in my bag, sensing that consulting the goddess would provoke Thorvald. After all, the treatment was straightforward enough.

‘There are two ways to treat this condition,’ I told him. ‘They are best done together. One is to avoid very rich foods for a time: less meat, butter, and wine. Simple foods like milk products, grain, and vegetables will be easier on the stomach.’

‘So now I’m to eat pap like a baby, am I?’ demanded Thorvald.

I ignored him. ‘I can also brew you a decoction,’ I said. ‘If you send a servant to me tomorrow, I’ll have it ready.’

Thorvald rolled his eyes and I sensed his impatience. ‘And don’t you have some magic seashells or beads I should wear, too?’ he asked. ‘For a large fee, of course.’

I bit back the retort that rose to my lips. ‘No, I don’t. And there will be no charge for my help,’ I added recklessly, determined to prove I was no quack turning a quick profit. ‘But I think, whilst I’m here, that I should take a look at that leg as well, don’t you?’

Thorvald stared at me, taken aback. ‘How did you know?’ he demanded. ‘Not even my molly-coddling father has noticed that.’

‘He doesn’t look at you with a healer’s eyes,’ I said, cautious not to betray the part my amulet played in my powers of detecting emotion, mood, and pain. It was a sense that seemed to grow more acute with each passing day.

After a moment’s hesitation, Thorvald bent forward and rolled up his legging to reveal a nasty gash in his calf. He winced as the fabric brushed his swollen skin. It was obvious the injury was causing him a lot of pain.

‘A wound from a rebel’s sword from my last trip outside the city,’ he said. ‘So, will the leg have to come off?’ He spoke lightly, as though jesting, but I sensed that this was his real fear.

I examined it carefully. The gash was badly inflamed, yellow with pus and very hot to the touch. No rot had yet set in, though it looked as if it might at any moment.

‘I think I can treat this,’ I said. I reached into my bag for a salve I kept there and began to smear a little on the wound. I felt Thorvald tense and take a sharp breath as even my light touch caused him pain. He shivered too: the wound was infected. If I didn’t work quickly, a fever would begin.

‘I’ll come back this afternoon with a more potent salve,’ I promised him. ‘I’ll bring the decoction at the same time. I hope we can avoid amputation and perhaps even cauterizing, but I won’t know for sure until I see how it responds to the treatment. You’ve neglected this too long.’

‘I know, I know,’ said Thorvald, visibly shaken by my words. ‘But then I’ve not met a healer before who appeared to know what she’s doing. It’s all charms and spells and rubbish that doesn’t work. I usually think time is the best medicine.’

‘That’s often true, but not always,’ I said, rising to go. ‘I’ll see you again later.’

Thorvald nodded and we left him. The guards at the door straightened themselves as we passed, and threw the door open for us. I was relieved as we stepped out into the street, and gulped the cooler air, ignoring the light rain that had started to fall.

‘Is he that rude to everyone?’ I asked Maria. ‘Or is it just women?’

‘Just women,’ said Maria, drawing the hood of her cloak up against the rain. ‘Unless he wants their favours.’

I looked at her sharply. ‘Is he another of Leola’s suitors?’ I asked.

‘I think yes,’ said Maria.

I sighed. ‘Well, I’m not looking forward to going back,’ I said. ‘He’s not the most grateful of my patients.’

We turned the corner, and lounging against the side of the building, his clothing peppered with raindrops, was Knut. I wondered why he was standing around in the street in such weather, but was about to pass him without greeting, assuming he wouldn’t recognize me. I was very surprised when he straightened up, came forward and fell into step beside me.

‘Hello, healer,’ he said.

‘Hello, king’s son,’ I replied. If he couldn’t be bothered to remember or use my name, then why should I use his?

He chuckled. ‘Very well, I’ve forgotten your name,’ he said. ‘Remind me!’

‘I’m Sigrun. And this is Maria.’

‘Ah, Sigrun, is it?’ he said, ignoring Maria. ‘How strange I should have no memory of your name at all. And do you need reminding of mine, or was that merely to put me in my place?’

‘You’re Knut,’ I said. I wondered why he had this sudden interest in me when he’d barely bothered last time we’d met.

‘You’ve been to see my brother?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said surprised. ‘How did you … ?’ A sudden suspicion struck me: ‘Were you waiting for me?’

‘Just friendly family concern. How is he?’

‘Why don’t you ask your brother himself how he is?’ I asked, bewildered. ‘Why ask me?’

‘Ah well, you see, in our family, we don’t always talk as much as you might think. And when we do, we don’t always hear the truth. So tell me, is he likely to die, or am I hoping too much?’

The memory of his previous remarks about his brother came back to me. ‘Have you really been waiting here in the rain, in the hope that I’ll tell you your brother’s dying?’ I asked, shocked.

‘Well, that would be putting it very bluntly. As I said, I prefer to say that I’m merely enquiring after his health. I don’t live with him and my father, you see. We found we clashed rather too often for anyone’s comfort so I found a house of my own nearby. But I like to know how they are.’

I was appalled by his callousness. What kind of a family was this? I would have liked to tell him what I thought of him, but I’d listened to a great deal of talk in Thrang’s household about not offending the king. And unfortunately I suspected that rule probably extended to his sons.