He studied me for a long time.
‘You have my word,’ he said finally. ‘Tomorrow, I will tell your Laird King that we return to Orkney, that we will not go to war with Finnleik. He will not be happy and neither with Agda.’
‘He never is.’ I took his hand in mine. ‘But you cannot imagine how furious your wife would be if you disobeyed her and ended up dead.’
He rolled his eyes and kissed me.
Chapter 31
A Feast of Ravens
As the night went on, it was not long before women rushed to and fro with dishes of river salmon, honied roots and buttered neeps. Oat breads and bowls of hot pottage came next. Sigurd ate greedily but just the glassy-eyed look of the salmon was enough to send my sensitive stomach rolling.
The drums were no better. My head throbbed in time with my heart. I could scarcely hear myself think. The men, bloated on ale and wine still gorged themselves on fare my father provided, decidedly drunker than when the evening began and becoming louder as the wine flowed.
The Laird king threw his head back and laughed as he regaled the priest, no doubt planning on how I could be redeemed in the eyes of the Lord. He probably hoped that my marrying a Dane would be my salvation. Me becoming a Dane was certainly his. He prayed to his Lord the day I took his head from his shoulders. I do not hope he found peace.
Draped in plaid, the women danced. Six in all. They bobbed and weaved about each other; arms outstretched. Agile as ravens, circling and moving sun-wise and all while singing in our beautiful tongue. They echoed each other, slowing and speeding up to the beat of the drums. Old and young casting long shadows about the walls. I placed a hand to my stomach. My child would be fluent in both our languages, the Bifröst bridge connecting our worlds.
Above the din, a sudden shout came as two men argued over one of the women. Filthy hands grabbing at her like dogs fighting over scraps. In our own Mead Hall, we do not standfor such disrespect to our free women. We did not then and we certainly do not now.
My gaze settled on the Laird King, paying the men no mind between bites of mutton and sinking more ale. The man with the limp loosened his grip on her while the other man dragged his prize out through the door.
No one flickered. No one stopped it.
I wanted to take all the women to Orkney, my sister included. To fill our ships until they might burst at their seams. That they might see what it was like to be free women. To fight. To love. To be equal.
As the dance came to its conclusion, more wood was thrown onto the fire sending red sparks sputtering out through the small hole in the roof. Smoke spiralled at the hiss of the damp wood, the thickness of it gripped my throat and choked me.
‘I must excuse myself,’ I said to Sigurd, kissing his cheek and stifling a cough.
‘Are you unwell?’
‘No, I am tired and full as a tick,’ I shouted trying to be heard over the music. ‘I just need some air is all.’
He nodded. Grease shining on his neatly groomed beard. ‘Do not leave me along with them too long.’ He nodded towards my father’s priest, waddling like a Christmastide good towards him. ‘I fear he might try to convert me.’
I squeezed his hand gently and smiled. ‘I’m sure you will be able to fend him off before he bruises his knees praying for your salvation.’
As I weaved through the throng, I caught sight of the door, flanked on either side by my father’s men. I neared to see Johnne, back resting against the frame. I had not heard his name since the day I was with Elpin on the roof. Johnne still had a small gap between his two front teeth. He had been no older than nine summers old when he’d raced Elpin home and taken atumble over a rock. Now he was robust. Thick framed and even thicker headed. One of my father’s favourite archers.
‘Johnne.’ I nodded as I passed.
He nodded in return but did not speak. I caught the flash of a silver dirk in the fold of his belt as he pulled his tunic over it. As clear as day I remember thinking that he must have forgotten that it was not allowed within the hall and terrified that my father would find out. I kept his secret.
Outside the sky hung heavy, like the folds of a curtain. Tiny flakes of snow floated, suspended in the air, before settling as a kiss on my eyelashes. I gripped the rail, breathing deeply and staring down into the glassy darkness of the firth below.
All around my feet, the floor was littered with the weapons of the men. I could see the intricate carvings of Odin and Thor on hilts of swords. All dusted with the fine snow that had fallen. We had no shields, no spears or mail. It had all been left further down the firth with Harold and his men.
‘Lady Olith.’
I turned and wrapped my arms around Ligach.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d come. Please will you speak with me before you leave?’
The easy wind carried away the clouds of snow to reveal the moon’s pale disc and a curtain of glittering stars. We stood. Two shadows side by side. Friends. Companions. It was like losing another sister to see her leave.
‘I cannot explain how grateful I have been for your council,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t know what I will do without you.’
