The archipelago of Orkney loomed; a dark smudge nestled against the mist. It was as though the hand of God held it there, suspended above the sea. White foam kelpies galloped and crashed against the base of the cliffs that rose in turrets from the ocean guarding my husband’s land.
We made our way around the headland which opened out into a horseshoe of a bay. The shallower waters made for calmer seas.The beach was littered with specks of people, all waiting for our arrival and no doubt the spoils of the Dane’s raid.
As we neared the shore, the women erupted from their benches, dropping the oars and flinging themselves into the water, kicking up spray with their boots and hauling the longship up onto the sand.
I had arrived in my new home.
Chapter 8
The Common Always Love What is New
Thorkell took my hand while Angus leapt into the water like a young buck, grateful to be back on land. The mist rolled in rhythm with the sea air revealing islands pitted with ruins.
Men, women and children all swarmed around us, covered in furs with eyes smudged black with charcoal, waiting to plunder the spoils from the latest raid. Their thick Norse tongue sounded like a swarm of bees to my ear.
‘By the gods, you have arrived safely,’ the Jarl said spreading his arms wide. ‘Thor has smiled upon us, as has Jörmungandr.’
He looked as I had remembered him, although his boots and cloak were now as muddy as my own. His arrogance still outweighed any attractiveness. He took my arm and placed it in his, it made my skin crawl. My boots sunk into the wet sand, but his pace was slow and deliberate allowing me time to find my footing.
‘There is much to prepare.’ He waved a hand. ‘Halldora, please?’
‘Lady Donada.’ a young woman with hair as gold as corn and skin as pale as milk stood before me, a vision of loveliness, nothing like the savages that had sailed me. She beaconed me towards the house of the seeress.
The Jarl cleared his throat. ‘Lady Olith,’ he said, correcting her. ‘Let the others know.’
She bowed her head.
He turned to me. ‘Halldora will be your interpreter, should you need it. Not all our people speak your language, but they are learning.’
‘I withdrew my arm from the Jarl’s and followed, feeling his eyes upon me as I walked. Up close, I could see she was just a child. She must have been no older than fifteen. It was hard to ignore how much she reminded me of Donada. In another lifetime they could have been best friends.
I dared not speak. I grasped Halldora’s arm tighter as we started up the path at the end of the beach leading through steep-sided dunes and opening into a circle of houses with roofs made of thatch steadied by pieces of vertical timber. They stood like upturned ships against the horizon.
The central dwelling was much larger than the others with double doors that hung open. Smoke spiralled against the sky. We still meet here, those of us that have not left for Alba or returned to Norway. We warm our old bones, and we smile watching our children as they squabble over the same insignificant things we did in our youth. But with old age comes the knowledge that in the end, when all is said and done, if we can live our lives decently and kindly, life will more or less all turn out all right.
‘There.’ She pointed towards the smallest of the dwellings, set back, it looked as though it had been carved from the ground with a stone, flat as a silver coin sticking up from the ground scribed with symbols I did not recognise then. ‘That is the home of the seeress. She wishes to speak with you this evening.’ It seemed like a demand and not a question.
All I could manage was, ‘yes.’
‘Now it is time.’ She turned again.
‘Where are we going?’ I said.
‘To the bathhouse.’
‘Bathhouse?’
‘You must be cleansed of your maidenhood before your wedding.’ She smiled. ‘The rest of the married women are already waiting for your arrival.’
As we approached the bathhouse, women milled about impatiently. There had been fewer women at Bethóc’s wedding and yet, here we were, all of the married women if the village had turned out for the ceremony.
‘Finally,’ an old woman huffed. ‘She is here. Come now, Halldora, get her inside. The Gothi is waiting.’
She ushered us in. Even though the sky was overcast it was much darker inside. The air was thick with the smoke from the fire and the smell of spoiled meat. I did not need my eyes to adjust to the murkiness to know that it was much smaller than any of our chambers at home. It was narrow as a longboat with carcasses of meat hanging from thick beams, waiting to be cured. Thick candles furnished the walls, with dark pools of wax hardening against the wood.
A woman stood at the steps leading to the water, beneath lines of symbols carved deep into the wooden frame. She was broad as a ship and clothed in blood red. It was stitched with intricate white flowers that resembled Forget Me Not.
‘Bring her here. Bring her here.’ She waved her arms. ‘Let me look at her.’
