Sigrun's Secret (9 page)

‘Your father has a very good reason for not stopping here,’ said Erik’s familiar voice beside me. I jumped, not having seen him.

‘He does?’ I asked, curious.

‘We stopped here once before,’ Erik told me. ‘On our way to the new land. We were unlucky and the visit had dreadful consequences. Your father won’t risk that again.’

‘What happened?’ I asked, eager to hear more. I knew Erik had accompanied my parents to Iceland, and probably knew their whole story. But he was shaking his head.

‘It’s for your father to tell you,’ he said. ‘I’m just saying you should trust him.’

I looked over at my father and felt his deep sadness. I understood he couldn’t bear to speak of what had happened because he was fighting his own misery. Erik had always been like a second father to me, helping me out of scrapes and keeping some of my transgressions hidden from my parents. I was inclined to be guided by him, but Asgrim was not so easily satisfied. He snorted impatiently, got up and walked off. He leaned against the side of the ship, looking out to sea, his shoulders hunched in anger.

We reached the Shetlands two days later, and this time there were no arguments about whether or not to break our journey. We slipped past the low-lying, windswept islands until we found a beach where we could pull up our ship, and rowed onto it. The men shipped their oars, leaped into the shallow surf and hauled the boat above the high tide mark. I went with a few others to gather driftwood for a fire, though there was little enough to be found. We came back with a meagre armful, and would need to supplement it with what we had brought from home.

As I climbed into the ship to fetch extra firewood, father was unlocking a chest under the bench in the stern of the ship. I saw him take out a heavy purse, one of several, and tie it round his neck. Then he turned and saw me.

‘I just came to fetch wood,’ I said quickly, not wanting him to think I’d been spying on him. ‘There was very little to be found … ’

‘Very well,’ father replied calmly. ‘Use it sparingly. Erik and I will trade for some fresh meat.’

Father vaulted over the side of the ship onto the sand, and called to Erik. I noticed they both had their swords buckled to their belts as they disappeared into the dunes at the back of the beach. We were in a foreign land, and the sight reminded me danger might await us here.

When I’d picked the firewood, I turned and saw my brother. He was standing on the other side of the ship, looking not at me, but at the chest father had unlocked. I could see his eyes glisten, and with a shock, I felt his greed. He wanted the money for himself.

When Asgrim saw me looking at him, he turned abruptly and walked away. Feeling uneasy, I threw the firewood onto the beach before jumping down myself. I almost wished I hadn’t developed this unsettling ability to read moods and thoughts. It was uncomfortably like spying. I touched the amulet lightly and wondered again if that was where this unexpected ability had come from. It seemed the only explanation.

The fire soon crackled and flickered, casting a glow of dancing light on the men’s faces as they gathered around the fire. The light was fading and the air was raw. Father returned carrying a whole sheep for roasting and everyone cheered. There was more than enough to feed the twelve hungry mouths that craved freshly-cooked food.

After the feast, once everyone was full and basking in the glow of the embers, father withdrew and walked down to the sea. I got up and followed him, feeling the cold air swirling unpleasantly about me after the heat of the fire. Father was picking up shells and pebbles, casting them into the water one by one. He didn’t notice me until I paused beside him. He started a little.

‘Father, where are we going?’ I asked him softly.

He didn’t answer at first; instead throwing another shell into the water. A small wave broke at our feet, staining the sand with wetness.

‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘There was no time to make plans. There was barely time even to consult your mother.’

‘It doesn’t seem fair,’ I said tentatively, ‘that we should have to flee our home like outlaws … ’

‘Yes, well, leave that for now,’ said my father abruptly. ‘I’ve told you I don’t want to discuss that yet. I thought perhaps we could make for Hedeby first of all. It’s a busy market town in the Mark, where we can trade the calfskins I’ve brought.’

I nodded in silence, shocked that my father had so little idea of where we were going and what we would be doing. I steeled myself to ask another question.

‘Is it really true, what Ingvar said, that we have to stay away three years?’ I held my breath, dreading the answer.

‘Those were the terms,’ said my father in a low voice. His sadness mingled with mine, a fog of loneliness and unhappiness.

I didn’t ask any more; I didn’t think he would answer if I did. Instead we remained silent, side by side in the darkness until I began to shiver, and father ordered me to go and wrap up and get some sleep. I obeyed him, finding a spot close to the fire, but sleep was elusive.

My brother asked me about my conversation with father the next morning once we were out at sea again. He was furious that I’d found out so little.

‘Did he admit he was once a slave?’ he demanded.

‘He didn’t want to talk about it.’

‘So you just let it be?’ Asgrim’s tone was scathing.

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ I said, stung by his harshness.

‘I will,’ said my brother, and beckoned to my father who had finished with the sail for the time being. Father came towards us, looking from me to Asgrim, a questioning lift to his brows. He knew what we wanted and was reluctant.

‘Where are we going?’ Asgrim asked brusquely. ‘I think you should tell us. And how shall we live? We can’t just drift around for three years.’

‘Do you have any suggestions?’ asked my father defensively.

‘You should have the ideas,’ snarled Asgrim angrily. ‘This is all your fault.’

There was an appalled silence.

‘Bjorn,’ called Erik, unaware of the argument. ‘There’s a good-sized settlement ahead. Do you want to stop and trade?’

Father turned from us, with relief it seemed. I couldn’t blame him. I shot Asgrim a reproachful look, which he answered with a sneer. I hardly recognized my brother in this angry and unpleasant young man. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ I asked him.

‘Don’t you see?’ he asked impatiently. ‘If it’s true, and father really is an escaped slave, and mother was a slave too, then we’re nothing. I’m not the son of a chieftain. We have no lineage. We’re merely empty impostors. Everything we’ve been told is a lie. It makes our whole lives meaningless.’

Asgrim left me, moving away to look ahead. I stared at the land, hardly seeing it, my mind full of my brother’s words. Most of what he said didn’t resonate with me. I didn’t much care whether or not I was the daughter of a chieftain. It took some adjustment, but ultimately I wasn’t deeply concerned. The situation it had led us into now was far worse, and the fact that our parents had lied to us ran through my veins like poison.

I looked over at my father. He sighed as he squinted into the sun, looking at the settlement ahead, the creases around his eyes pronounced. This was the kind and loving father I’d always known; the father and husband who would do anything for his family. I tried to match this image with the lying, murdering, cheating ex-slave Halfgrim had made him out to be. It made no sense.

Whom was I inclined to trust? My own gentle, honourable father, or Halfgrim; a rogue if ever I saw one? There could be no doubt. With an effort, I pushed the painful thoughts aside. I
had
to trust father until he explained.

We sailed in towards a grey shingle beach near a collection of what looked like stalls or booths, about which many people were gathered, and in the background, a scattering of houses, farm buildings, and workshops.

The men jumped out of the ship in the shallows. Father lifted me out and carried me through the waves, putting me down on the dry shingle before returning to help haul the boat out of the water. He asked a few men to keep watch on the ship and the rest of us headed for the stalls. I followed father closely, but Asgrim made off on his own.

Together, we walked among the booths, which varied from simple trestle tables with wares laid out, to tents and rough buildings. A blacksmith was hard at work shaping a ploughshare while a lad around my age worked the bellows for him. I could feel the blast of heat as we walked past. An old man sat behind a table with all manner of bone whistles laid out for sale. When he saw us, he picked one up and began to play, a haunting, mournful tune. A thin woman in a long green kirtle, her head wrapped in a scarf, called to me to come into her tent and have my fortune read. I shook my head, feeling afraid, and took my father’s arm. I didn’t want to know my future. I’d had enough of prophecies.

I’d never been in a place where so many people were gathered together. What was even more confusing was feeling all their moods. I knew the man with the bone whistles was desperate for money and the blacksmith was angry about something. Their emotions crowded in on me, and I had to fight to keep them at a distance, separate from my own.

Father had stopped to look at some bolts of cloth laid out in front of a booth, when two passers-by paused next to us. I felt the older man’s curiosity. ‘Bjorn?’ he asked. We both looked up. A tall, burly man with a weathered, lined face and a bushy grey beard stood looking intently at my father. As he got a good look at his face, his questioning look turned into a broad smile. ‘By Thor!’ he exclaimed. ‘It
is
you, Bjorn! Do you remember me, or have I grown too old and wizened?’

‘Odin’s beard!’ replied my father in astonishment, and a smile lit his face. ‘Well met, old friend!’

The two men embraced, clapped each other on the back, both talking and laughing at once. Then my father turned to me. ‘This is my daughter, Sigrun,’ he told the stranger, who turned an interested gaze on me. ‘Sigrun, this is my very good friend, Thrang.’

‘What are you doing here?’ asked my father.

‘I was going to ask you the same question,’ said Thrang. ‘Jarlshof, of all places in the world to meet! I’m here on business. I work as a carrier of goods.’

‘Does it pay well? Do you live here?’

‘Yes it does and no, I live further south. You’re still in Iceland, Bjorn? How’s Thora?’

The two men were obviously delighted to see each other. I stood a little apart watching them, and saw a shadow fall over my father’s face as he said Thora had suffered a broken leg. Thrang must wonder at us leaving her at such a time, I thought suddenly. But Thrang turned to me. ‘You are your father’s daughter, I see, Sigrun,’ he remarked. ‘I see little of your mother in you.’

‘That’s true,’ I agreed, thinking not only of my dark hair and brown eyes, but of my failure to excel at the skills she’d taught me.

‘This is my son, Leif,’ said Thrang, pulling his young companion forward. Leif was a broad, strong-looking young man with wiry hair like his father’s, only flaxen instead of grey. I shook his hand politely and decided he must be about my age or a bit older.

‘Bjorn, what do you say to sharing an ale and exchanging news?’ Thrang asked. ‘We’ve got a lot of years to catch up on.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said my father. He looked happier than I’d seen him since his return from the summer market.

‘Here, Sigrun,’ he said, thrusting his heavy purse into my hand. ‘Buy us some fresh meat for nightmeal, and some fuel; firewood or peat or whatever they have here and anything you’d like for yourself too. It’s a rare opportunity for you.’

I froze in shock, the heavy purse clutched in my hand. I had no idea how to do what he asked of me. Already the two friends were turning away to go.

‘Father, wait!’ I begged, catching hold of his sleeve. ‘I can’t! I’ve never used money … ’

Father paused and grinned ruefully. ‘I’ve neglected your education!’ he said.

‘In more ways than one,’ I couldn’t help adding. Then I felt bad as I watched his face close up and his new cheerfulness fall away from him.

‘Leif will help you,’ Thrang said, unwittingly smoothing over the awkward moment. ‘He always drives a good bargain.’

The problem solved to their satisfaction, the two men turned and walked off together. I was left facing a stranger, an unfamiliar purse in my hand. I felt horribly alone. The fact that I could see our ship from here was little comfort.

‘I’m … sorry if it’s a nuisance,’ I said to Leif.

‘Not at all,’ he said politely, but I could tell he was awkward about being left in my company too.

As I turned, the man selling the cloth caught my eye and started talking, telling me what quality his goods were, and how pleased I’d be with them. He picked up a bolt of blue wool and held it out for me to touch.

‘Look how fine it would look on you!’ the man was saying, holding it up against me. ‘It would only cost you a few coins from your full purse!’

He touched my purse as he spoke, his hand brushing mine, and I backed away, suddenly frightened, clutching the money tightly.