Sigrun's Secret (29 page)

I climbed down the ladder and joined the supper party. I’d expected to feel more different. To my astonishment, I could still feel my mother’s mixture of happiness and deep grief, and Bera’s sadness. It’s because you already know that’s how they’re feeling, I told myself. So you imagine you can still feel it. Or perhaps the amulet can still work its magic just by being nearby. But I was puzzled.

Helgi arrived. He was weighed down by grief inside, even though he hugged me and said how happy he was. How did I know? How could I feel this, when I’d taken the amulet off? It shouldn’t be possible. I felt tears start to my eyes at the thought that Ingvar’s parents didn’t want us to be together. I was hurt and confused. Didn’t they like me? Had I been blind to that all my life?

Ingvar came to find me, taking my hand in his. I could feel his love, his warmth, his happiness as he smiled down at me, and it lifted my spirits to look up into his glowing face. I loved him more than anything in the world. My heart turned over with love. I decided to be happy tonight, no matter what. I smiled up at Ingvar and pressed his hand. He bent down and kissed me gently, not caring who was watching.

The meal was a strange mixture of merriment and sadness. We were toasted, but we also drank to my father’s memory, falling silent and sad. I wished with all my heart he could be here now, to celebrate with us. I kept thinking he would walk in at any moment and take his place beside my mother; the seat she kept empty in his memory. It was impossible to believe that he would never do so again.

The following morning, I walked out with my mother, at her request, to collect plants. She looked pale and drawn, as though she hadn’t slept much. It was too early in the year for anything much to be growing, but I thought perhaps the fresh air would do her good, so I agreed to go.

‘You’ve changed a great deal while you’ve been away, Sigrun,’ she said as soon as we’d left the house behind us.

‘For the better, I hope,’ I said anxiously.

Thora smiled.

‘Of course. It makes me very happy to see how you’ve grown and flourished while you’ve been away. Tell me, what happened to change you so much?’

‘Noth—nothing happened,’ I faltered. ‘What do you mean? I’ve already told you what we did and where we went.’

‘But what finally gave you confidence in yourself?’ asked my mother. ‘Before you went, you’d almost rather have jumped off a cliff than gone to a birth by yourself. I did everything I could to encourage you, but nothing worked. It seems it was my absence you needed, not my help. Have I overshadowed you, do you think, Sigrun?’

‘Oh, no,’ I cried, distressed that she should think that. ‘Not at all! You taught me everything I know. Well, nearly everything. I love you dearly!’

My mother smiled sadly. ‘I know that,’ she said. ‘And I love you too, my daughter. But I’ve wondered, since I saw the change in you, whether it was hard for you to develop with me standing over you with all my knowledge and experience.’

‘No,’ I said eager to reassure her. ‘It wasn’t that, truly it wasn’t. It’s a secret, but … it was the amulet Ingvar gave me.’

My mother stopped and stared at me. ‘Amulet?’ she asked disbelievingly.

I was already pulling the horse out from under my tunic, untying it so that I could hand it to her.

‘It gave me such powers,’ I told her in a rush. ‘Suddenly I could sense people’s moods and intentions. And the runes spoke to me. They’d never done so before.’

My mother took the amulet in the palm of her hand and looked at it closely, examining the beautiful craftsmanship. Then she looked up at me, a searching stare. I looked back at her, disconcerted to see a trace of amusement creeping into her eyes.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘Sigrun, I thought I’d taught you better than that,’ said my mother gently.

‘What do you mean? Don’t you believe me? It really does have powers. It helps me read people. Not see their auras. You know I’ve never been good at that. But
sense
what they are feeling.’ I was desperate to convince her. Perhaps because the amulet had worked such changes in my life, I wanted my mother to understand.

‘It’s a beautiful piece of jewellery,’ said my mother giving it back. ‘Made by a very skilled silversmith. But the goddess doesn’t need trinkets to speak through. A piece of silver can’t give you powers, Sigrun. You know that.’

‘But it
did
!’ I insisted. ‘How else would you explain it?’

‘Tell me about what happened when Ingvar gave it to you,’ my mother asked. I did so. I told her how he had spoken to me before I went away, given the amulet to me as a parting gift with the hope that we’d meet again. I omitted to tell her of the kiss, of my own feelings for Ingvar at the time. Although everyone knew now, how we felt about each other, I still felt shy about discussing it with my mother. But I didn’t need to. She saw the connection at once. When I finished speaking, she turned and hugged me.

‘My foolish child,’ she said fondly. ‘Don’t you see? It was falling in love that brought your powers alive. They were there, but latent. You needed to grow into womanhood for them to develop fully. It’s often the way with seers and healers. The gift of the amulet just happened to coincide with the discovery of your love.’

I blushed and stared at the ground as we started walking again.

‘Really? Was it … was it that way for you too?’ I asked.

Thora shook her head.

‘No, Sigrun, it wasn’t. I had my visions and my ability to see auras from childhood. But everyone is different. I can see now that it was all lying within you, ready to blossom.’

‘So the amulet made no difference at all?’ I asked in a small voice. I felt I was betraying it to admit such a thing; betraying Ingvar’s valuable gift to me.

‘Of course it did. Because you believed in it,’ said Thora simply. ‘It’s the same reason charms and spells often work as cures. You’d already learned all the skills a healer needs. But you needed to believe in yourself.’

I held the amulet tightly. I didn’t know whether I was relieved or disappointed. But in my heart I knew my mother was right.

‘Yesterday,’ I said, ‘I sensed … ’

I paused, unsure how to continue. Then I reasoned my mother had similar skills to me. With her ability to read auras she might already know what I was about to say, so I continued.

‘I saw that Bera was grieved that I was marrying Ingvar. It upset me. So before nightmeal, I took it off. I left it in the sleeping loft.’

‘And it made no difference,’ said my mother. ‘You could feel it anyway.’

I nodded. ‘Yes. And Helgi too. And some of the girls are … ’

‘Jealous,’ finished my mother. ‘Yes, that was to be expected. We’re short of young men of marriageable age, and Ingvar is … well, the biggest catch.’

‘But Helgi and Bera,’ I asked. ‘Why?’ I could feel myself close to tears.

‘I think … ’ said Thora. She stopped walking, her eyes glazed and she stood quite still. I waited quietly, knowing she was seeing the future. After a few moments she came back to herself. She looked tired and years older.

‘What did you see?’ I asked tentatively.

‘You’ll know soon enough,’ she replied sadly. ‘You mustn’t think they don’t love you. They do.’

We turned for home in silence. I wanted to ask my mother to explain what she’d seen. I didn’t want more secrets. But her sadness was so strong, that despite my dread, I couldn’t bear to force her to speak.

When we returned, Ingvar and Asgrim had just come back from collecting eggs from the cliffs. They were elated and full of their success.

‘I promised you guillemot eggs, Sigrun,’ said Ingvar with his beautiful smile. ‘And here they are!’ He put a blue egg into my hand and I felt the weight of it, anticipating the taste. It was so good to be home. Ingvar was here, he was full of love and life and fun. What could be so terrible about our marrying?

At nightmeal, my brother called for a barrel of mead to be opened. There was a wind blowing up outside, making the fire smoke, but it was cosy to be indoors. Maria walked around the tables, pouring each man a drink as I helped serving and passing out the food. I happened to see her pause beside my brother and fill his horn, and I noticed Asgrim raise his eyes to smile warmly up at her. She smiled back. Then Asgrim raised his horn to Ingvar.

‘A toast!’ he called out over the chatter and the noise of eating. ‘To our success, my new brother!’

There was a light in his eyes that made me uneasy. It had nothing to do with the mead; it was an elation that I could feel from across the room.

‘Success in what?’ I asked.

My brother rose to his feet and a hush fell over the hall as everyone turned to look.

‘I’ve had word that Halfgrim has slunk back to Iceland, the dog,’ he said. ‘This is my oath before Odin the Allfather and the mighty Thor: by midsummer, I shall avenge my father, and restore our family’s honour!’

Ingvar lifted his horn in support of the pledge. There were no cheers, only a few mutterings. Most people were silent. Bera burst into tears and moaned quietly with distress. I looked at my mother. She’d covered her face with her hands and was rocking slightly in her seat. I realized this was what she had foreseen.

‘Are you mad?’ I asked my brother, aghast. ‘Father wouldn’t want this; he specifically said he didn’t want to be avenged!’

Asgrim frowned angrily at me. ‘His soul won’t rest until he’s avenged. Honour is men’s business,’ he said sharply. ‘You deliver the babies and leave this to us.’

I stared at him in disbelief and anger for a moment and then stalked out of the house, banging the heavy door closed behind me.

Fury consumed me. Asgrim had abandoned father when he’d needed his son. He’d left us stranded in Jorvik, penniless and exposed to attack. And now, when it was all too late, his idea of shouldering responsibility was to ride off to commit more killings; to deepen the feud between the families. Such idiocy. Such stupidity. I could feel my jaw and my fists clenching as the anger tore through me.

I walked swiftly uphill away from the house, out towards the cliff where the horse had nearly galloped to his death on that day Asgrim and father had returned. It seemed so long ago now. I’d changed. I was no longer naïve and trusting, and no longer expected the world to be a safe, happy place. But to seek out violence and danger? It was madness.

The wind tore at my kirtle as I walked. My dark hair was whipped into a tangle. I pulled it angrily out of my eyes. The sea was a dull grey, heaving and churning in the bay. It looked as angry as I felt.

I sensed Ingvar’s presence long before he reached me. ‘You’ll freeze up here,’ he said, offering my cloak. I allowed him to fasten it at my neck, and wrap it around me. His own cloak streamed down from his shoulders and flapped in the strong wind. He put his arms around me and I leaned gratefully against him.

‘Please don’t support Asgrim in this,’ I begged him. ‘It’s suicide. You could be killed.’

‘I won’t be,’ Ingvar said. ‘You needn’t be afraid, Sigrun. We can muster a strong force. We can take on Halfgrim.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I pulled away from Ingvar and stood at the cliff edge, the wind clawing at me.

‘Are you insane too?’ I asked him. ‘Even if Asgrim isn’t killed in this attack, sooner or later Halfgrim’s kin will make sure he dies in revenge and so it goes on. One attack after another until our whole family is wiped out. Asgrim, his children, our children, Halfgrim’s children. For what?’

‘Asgrim needs to keep his honour. It would be cowardly to let be,’ Ingvar said. He reached out his arms for me, but I pushed him angrily away. ‘Your father won’t be able to rest in his grave until he’s avenged,’ Ingvar added. The wind took his fair hair and blew it into his face, but he dragged it out of the way. ‘He’ll have no peace. Is that what you want for him?’

‘He made me promise
not
to avenge him!’ I cried. ‘It was one of the last things he said. He didn’t want it.’

‘Sigrun, I’m sorry, but Asgrim will never believe that,’ said Ingvar earnestly. ‘Bjorn agreed to go into exile, but Halfgrim came after him anyway. He broke his word and murdered him. That was against any law and all honour. Asgrim knows he’ll be despised as a coward throughout Iceland if he lets Halfgrim get away with that. Don’t you understand?’

‘No I don’t! And even if it’s true, why do you have to support him?’ I shouted against the wind. ‘Why must you encourage him?’

‘Because we’re family now,’ said Ingvar. ‘Or we soon will be.’ There was a sudden lull in the wind and he dropped his voice. ‘As your future husband, I’m obliged to support him. Otherwise his shame will be my shame.’

‘Because of
me
?’ I asked, my voice loud in the relative stillness. I could hear the swell heaving and breaking against the cliffs below me.

‘Yes, when we marry.’ Ingvar’s face was open and determined. He believed what he was saying. Perhaps my brother was right and these ideas of honour were something only men understood, because I certainly didn’t. Ingvar was going to risk getting himself killed because of me, even though I was begging him not to.