And with that, she flounced out.
?
The cool morning air was brisk on my face as I knelt in the white sand, throwing stones for Angus. He danced in time with the waves, tongue lolling, ears flapping and soaked to the skin. It made me think of home. I felt torn. Split in two. One half wanted to be home with Donada, to keep her safe and to protect her. I had given myself to the northern isles as a sacrifice to her and yet as soon as I was on my husband’s ships, my father had given her maidenhood to whoever knocked at his borders first.
I had not seen my husband since the early hours, scurrying like tiny ants, back and forth along the wooden dock. The ships were all but loaded with their precious cargo, ores stowed and sails unfurled, listing and rolling. Their wooden hulls were scattered about the shore like fallen autumn leaves.
I made my way towards the gathering, letting the cold sand move between my bare toes. My thoughts turned to Ligach; she had swept out of my chamber in a flurry of fabric. Angus padded softly behind.
Sigurd stood almost a head above the rest; his plait much neater than when he had left our bed chamber. Sigurd and his men would be leaving us soon. The thought of being left as my husband’s charge terrified me more than my wedding night. He was right, that they would be my people. Not that I would ever tell him and risk him thinking that he knew better. They would look to me for guidance, and eventually, I would build their trust enough that they would take it without question. I surveyed the knots of women clung to the wharf, watching. Shouts rang out in Norse, a sound my ear was not yet attuned to.
Above the waves, I could hear a thin cry. I found it coming from the group of women closest to the ships. Halldora cradled Estrid trying desperately to comfort her. As I drew nearer, I could hear the voices of the women.
‘It will be all right,’ Halldora soothed. ‘They will be home soon.’
Angus pushed past lolloping into the circle of women, forcing them apart.
‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘Why do you cry?’
‘It is her youngest son, Erik,’ Halldora said, cradling Estrid. ‘He is to sail with the rest of the thralls to Miklagard.’
‘Is he a trader?’ I said in my naivety.
They say that Miklagard is the Great City that stands high upon its shore with its silks and its spices. We have madeourselves wealthy over the years trading in flesh and fabric but then, if Sigurd had agreed punishments, he would make more selling the thralls in Miklagard than anywhere else, so that is where they would be sent.
‘No, he is no trader.’ Halldora shook her head as though I had said something I should not. ‘He was sentenced by Jarl Sigurd, to twelve months as a thrall.’
Estrid rounded on me, tears streaming. ‘Foul bitch!’ She jabbed a finger. ‘Meddling in affairs you know nothing about.’
‘I…’ my mind raced. There was nothing that I could think that I had meddled in. I had tried my best to say out of all of the affairs of my husband’s Jarldom. ‘What is it you think I have done?’
‘You know very well,’ hissed Estrid. ‘You should have warned me.’
‘I did not know, Estrid you must-.’
‘Lady Olith,’ Sigurd called out.
The rest of the women took a step back, but I could tell from the look on their faces that what we had discussed was far from finished.
He looked down at me, his face splitting into a smile. ‘Our ships are all but loaded. I will only be gone a few days.’ He kissed the top of my head. ‘The rest will flow with the current and sail on to Frankia. I will return before they do.’
Estrid glared at me from behind Sigurd, eyes heavy and ringed with tears.
He slipped my arm in his. ‘They shall bring a small fortune, especially that one.’ He gestured to a man with his back to us, dressed in a dark knitted tunic. From his baldness and shape, I could see that it could not be Erik. ‘Turn around so that my wife may see you.’
I gasped. Stood before me was Bishop Fintan.
‘You are taking the priest?’ It had only been a day since we had taken Benediction, my heart sank. I could only think that it had been my insistence that he help us. ‘Why is it you take him?’
I learned then, just what my husband thought about the Christians and just how much could be made from selling our thralls and our plunder.
Sigurd smiled. ‘He has a debt which needs to be paid.’ He jabbed a finger into Father Fintan’s back. ‘Don’t you priest?’
Words escaped me. Father Fintan made no gesture. In my heart, I felt that I was to blame, if I had not forced him to give us Benediction, he would not have been in such a position.
‘He shall be sold as a hireling and no doubt something as exotic as a priest will command a high price in Miklagard.’
‘What about his church? Does it not have silver?’ I was beginning to think like a Dane, and I hoped that it would be enough to save the priest’s life but I was frightened. ‘Father.’ I turned to the priest. ‘Where is your silver?’
