Daughter of Fire and Ice (10 page)

I reminded myself of the vision I’d had of Bjorn and me reaching Iceland together. Surely that couldn’t be wrong? But prophecy could be misleading, I knew that. It didn’t always give the whole picture.

I tried to lay my fears aside and compose myself to be patient. I breathed steadily to endure the pain of the ropes and the floor digging into me. I needed to trust Bjorn to settle this.

At some point in the night my ankles were untied and I was half dragged, half carried outside and allowed to relieve myself. I groaned with pain as the blood, allowed to circulate freely for the first time in many hours, pulsed painfully into my feet, causing agonizing pins and needles. I was given a little broth and then tied up and left alone again.

The night lasted a lifetime of pain and anxiety. Why had Bjorn not returned to the longhouse? I hoped over and over again that he’d had the good sense to flee, only to feel despair at the thought that he’d left me. As I lay in the dark and the cold, thinking of him, I admitted to myself how much I loved him. It wasn’t just that I had seen him in my future. I also wanted him to be there.

Soon after sun up, I heard a bustle in the longhouse. I could smell food being cooked, cheerful voices and women’s laughter. I heard Ragna’s metallic voice, but I couldn’t make out the words. I was exhausted. I hardly cared any more what happened, just so long as I could be untied.

I thought I heard people leaving. There were fewer voices through the wall. Abruptly, there was someone beside me in the dim light. A man. I could smell him rather than see him. He bent over me and I saw the blade of a knife gleam. I was terrified and tried to cry out, but only a strangled whimper came through the tight gag. The effort almost made me choke. To my relief, the man cut my bonds and stripped the rawhide ropes from my wrists and ankles, making my cuts bleed afresh.

‘Get up,’ he ordered. I tried to do as he said, but my limbs wouldn’t obey me. My arms and legs felt weak and limp. They wouldn’t bear my weight. I tried again to push myself on all fours, swayed for a moment, and fell flat on my face.

The man bent over me again and fumbled in the gloom to untie my gag. The cloth had become entangled in my hair and as he pulled the knot loose, I felt some of my hair wrenched away with it. I murmured feebly in protest and pulled out the wad of cloth that had been crammed into my mouth. I coughed and retched.

Impatient with this delay, the man picked me up and carried me through the hidden doorway into the main house. The firelight seemed intolerably bright after the darkness of the passageway. I winced and covered my eyes. He dumped me on a low bench beside the fire, where I managed to stay upright, swaying dangerously. I concentrated hard on not falling into the fire. I thought, with a strange detachment, that that wouldn’t be a good place to fall. My eyes weren’t working properly and everything in the house was a blur, though I could sense other people around me.

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and looked round. The hand held me steady as I lurched sideways. A kindly face was looking down at me.

‘They’ve been too rough with you, haven’t they?’ she said softly. ‘I begged to be allowed to tend you. But Thorkel wouldn’t allow it. He asked Ragna to see to you and she … ’

‘Ragna?’ I whispered through bruised and swollen lips. Even saying that one word made me cough again. The woman brought me a goblet of whey. I sipped a tiny amount, relishing the sharp, sour taste and the cool wetness in my mouth and throat.

The woman continued talking and her voice was soothing. ‘Ragna is Thorkel’s daughter,’ she told me. ‘Kindness isn’t in her nature. She’s the one who … well, you’ll see soon enough.’

Her words washed over me as I continued to sip the whey. I had to concentrate on lifting the drink to my lips without spilling any. My hands were clumsy and shaking. I concentrated on each small, painful swallow and the coolness of the liquid in my throat. When it was empty, I tried to set down the empty goblet on the floor. To my shame, it slipped from my grasp, clattering on the stones that surrounded the fire. Wordlessly, the woman picked it up, and then started wiping my face and hands with a wet cloth. She shook her head when she saw the deep cuts on my wrists, but she said nothing.

Lying there on the earth, I’d thought I could bear anything if only I could be untied. But now that I was free, I was still in pain. I was also frustrated by my weak helplessness. More than anything else, I longed to know that Bjorn was safe.

The woman took a comb from her apron and stood behind me to comb my hair. It was sticky with salt and the comb snagged on the many tangles, teasing them out. How long was it since I’d washed? I tried to count the days and gave up. I must be dirty and smelly and I felt embarrassed.

‘What’s … your name?’ I managed to ask croakily.

‘I’m Gudrun, sister-in-law to Thorkel,’ she said. ‘I live here with my husband.’

There was a silence. I had to ask: ‘Bjorn … ’ I began. ‘Has he … gone?’

‘Gone? Well, not far. He’ll be back soon enough. You’re free now. At least you will be soon. I should have told you that before.’

I felt my throat closing painfully with terror. Where was Bjorn and what had he agreed to? Please let them have reached some fair compromise, I prayed. I begged each of the gods in turn. I begged the mighty Thor. I supplicated Odin the all-seeing and all-wise. I prayed to the gentle Frigg and to the powerful Freya. To my own goddess, Eir. All the time, the comb went swish, swish through my hair.

‘Are you all right, Thora?’ asked Gudrun, clearly concerned about my long silence. I nodded weakly.

‘You must need food,’ Gudrun said. She went to a pot on one end of the longfire and stirred it. Then, fetching a wooden bowl, she ladled some broth into it and put it into my hands with a sea shell for a spoon. ‘Eat,’ she said. ‘It’ll give you strength.’

Despite being ravenously hungry, I found it hard to swallow the lamb broth. It seemed wrong to be eating when Bjorn might be in danger. I ought to be able to sense it if he was, but my powers seemed to have left me. I didn’t even have the strength to stand up. I was no use to him so weak and helpless, so I forced myself to eat. Mouthful by mouthful. My movements became firmer and my sight clearer. I became more aware of the house around me. There was a young woman nursing a baby on one of the sleeping platforms. A whole lamb was roasting over the fire. The man who had carried me into the house was whittling wood. There was no one else. A large loom stood near to the fire on my left with an unfinished cloth upon it. I noticed the weaving was the most beautiful workmanship I’d ever seen.

As my energy returned I became more optimistic. Bjorn hadn’t abandoned me. He must have found some way of appeasing the islanders.

The sound of people approaching the house reached me. There was talking and laughter. I struggled to my feet. My treacherous legs threatened to give way beneath me, but Gudrun hurried to my side and supported me. With her help, I wobbled to the doorway. I needed to see that Bjorn was safe and well.

It was a cheerful group of islanders, with some of our people among them. I saw Grim, his arm bandaged, and Thrang. They were scowling. Where was Bjorn? As the crowd reached the door, it parted, revealing him. He looked grey and strained, deep shadows etched under his eyes. Next to him in a bright red tunic, her hand tucked through his arm, was the girl I had met in the house that first day. The same girl that had refused me water when I was tied up. She had flowers in her hair and a flush of delight on her face.

‘Thora,’ said Bjorn, his voice as strained as his face. ‘Thank the gods you’re safe.’

He made to move towards me, but Ragna tightened her grip on his arm, keeping him firmly by her side. I stared at him, and then at the girl. She smiled at me, a look of triumph lighting up her features.

‘Introduce me then,’ she said sharply, pinching Bjorn’s arm.

‘Thora … This is Ragna. This is … my … ’ He stopped, unable to continue.

‘His wife,’ Ragna said smugly.

Sigrun, my teacher, had always trained me to conceal my emotions. If you show fear, shock, or horror at a patient’s injury or condition, she had said, you will agitate them. And your job, Thora, is to reassure them. If they are soothed and convinced of your competence, the task of healing them will be easier. And the worse their condition, the more important that is.

I was glad of my long training as I stood trying to take in that Bjorn was married. Inside me there was a mix of fury and despair. I wanted to break down and weep. But Thora the healer merely inclined her head and said:

‘I’m pleased to meet you again, Ragna.’

I swayed a little, my legs threatening to give way and leaned heavily on Gudrun’s shoulder, but my face was impassive. I met Bjorn’s eyes. He was scanning my face for some reaction, some sign. I gave him none. It went not only against my training to betray myself, but against my pride too. I wouldn’t show either Bjorn or the islanders how distressed I was.

The islanders provided a wedding feast which they seemed to enjoy greatly, but we had to sit through in silent endurance. The roasted lamb was divided up and passed around, and mead flowed freely. I touched none of it. I noticed that Bjorn barely ate anything either. He raised his glass in a toast whenever invited, but remained quite sober. Ragna sat beside him throughout, watching everyone with suspicious, hostile eyes. She looked like an angry wolf guarding her prey from anyone who might wish to share it. I couldn’t see any joy in her aura, only the murky colours of greed and triumph.

Thrang came to sit beside me, a goblet in one hand. He also seemed sober, unlike our hosts.

‘They gave him no choice, you know,’ he said brusquely, his eyes on the newly-wed couple. ‘They drove a hard bargain for your release.’

I felt my stomach turn over at his words with a mixture of guilt and anger.

‘Did they hurt you?’ he asked gruffly.

‘Nothing serious,’ I said, tugging my sleeves down to hide my sore wrists, afraid he would be angry if he saw them.

‘Bjorn has been worried sick about you. We all have.’ Thrang didn’t look at me as he spoke, but I could feel his sympathy and I was surprised.

‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d have cared much what happened to us,’ I said. My voice was still rather hoarse, but that went unnoticed in all the noise. ‘We’re usurpers. You might have felt thieves deserved this fate.’

Thrang didn’t answer for a moment. He sat staring into his goblet, swirling the amber liquid around in it. So much of his face was covered with beard that I couldn’t read his expression.

‘Perhaps you have both earned my respect,’ he said at last. Then abruptly he changed the subject. ‘We brought your chest of remedies,’ he told me. ‘You might not know, but part of the bargain for your release was that you treat the people here before we leave. I thought the sooner you do it, the sooner we can get away.’

‘Thank you,’ I whispered miserably. ‘But whenever we go, we’ll have to take her with us, won’t we?’ I looked at Ragna as I spoke, and then my eyes were drawn to Bjorn. He sat staring straight ahead, oblivious to the riotous talk and laughter around him. There was a deep furrow in his brow. As I watched him, he looked across and saw me. There was such an expression of hurt and pain in his eyes that my heart went out to him all over again. I made myself look away. I longed to go to him. To comfort him as I might have done, just yesterday, if I had seen him look so sad. But it was no longer possible. It never would be possible. We were for ever divided. Forced apart, before we had been together. I felt tears gather under my eyelids and forced them back.

I felt Thrang take my hand and squeeze it and jumped with shock. Hurriedly, I drew it away, before realizing that he was only trying to show he was sorry for me. It seemed so unlike the great burly sailor to do such a thing.

‘They killed Kai, didn’t they?’ I said miserably.

‘Aye,’ growled Thrang. ‘I owe them a grudge for that too. They’ve robbed us and foisted that woman onto us into the bargain.’

‘How much have we lost?’ I asked. Again, I felt a sick sense of guilt.

Thrang answered in a low voice that was all but drowned out by the talk that surrounded us.

‘We had to trade our second ship and some of the food supplies.’

‘But that was to be your ship,’ I said, shocked.

Thrang shrugged. ‘I agreed to it. There are other ways I can be paid. And Bjorn refused to let them have you or any of the slaves or livestock. He said everyone was under his protection, but … ’

‘But what?’ I prompted as he fell silent.

‘I’m not a judge of such things, but I would say there was not enough food left to see us through the winter.’ Thrang’s brow creased with worry as he spoke. ‘It’s late in the season. Nothing can be grown until next year now.’

‘Bjorn had promised them freedom. He couldn’t go back on his word,’ I said loyally, though I guessed what Thrang would say. I wasn’t going to admit that Bjorn had been mistaken.

‘Better to be a well-fed slave than a dead freed-man,’ he growled. ‘Starvation isn’t pretty.’

‘The bargain wasn’t worth it,’ I said bitterly. ‘I’m not worth it. He should have left me. He should have fled with his ships and stores intact.’

‘Not so,’ said Thrang at once, surprising me again.

‘Does she bring no dowry?’ I asked, nodding at Ragna. ‘Or is the bargain all one sided?’

‘She brings her loom and half a dozen lambs,’ Thrang replied. ‘Apparently she’s gifted at weaving.’

‘That’s something, I suppose.’ I attempted to be generous, though it almost choked me. ‘But if she is a skilled weaver, why do they want to give her away? Such women are highly valued.’ I looked at Ragna, sitting there beside Bjorn. Pure jealousy pierced me so sharply that for a moment I could scarcely breathe. She had taken him from me. I could tell she knew it and it gave her pleasure.

Thrang was watching me and spoke again, lowering his voice further, till he was whispering in my ear, his beard tickling me. ‘I have a feeling there is something not right about her,’ said Thrang, shaking his head dubiously. I glanced at him, surprised again at his perceptiveness. ‘She’s a good-looking woman,’ Thrang explained. ‘But I wouldn’t marry her.’