‘I hear he is fat as a hog and just as ugly.’ I closed my eyes, realising that I detested the Jarl before I had even laid eyes on him. I tried to steady my breathing. ‘Donada should not listen to the whispers of the young women, everyone tells a story that they think you want to hear.’
My words felt strange. Uncomfortable, even to my ears.
‘She is no longer a child; she does not need you to tell her whom she can and cannot talk to,’ she said, her hands slipping through my wet hair. ‘Who will take care of Donada when you are no longer here to protect her?’
I thought of Elpin with brothers and sisters of his own to care for. For all there was nothing romantic between us, I wished for him to wrap his arms around me and tell me that he would care for Donada just as he would his own. I thought of the cold nights in the woods that we had hunted together, those quiet momentswhere nothing was said between us. The smell of his skin. The beat of his heart. The touch of his hand.
But too soon my mind was consumed with the thoughts of living with the barbarians, of all that I was about to lose and not what I was about to gain. I was foolish then.
‘Elpin will protect her,’ I said, with as much authority as someone can muster when sat naked in a cooling bath. ‘In my absence, it is Elpin she must look to.’
She did not make a sound, but she had always been an obedient girl and knew better than to argue. She was not natured like me, I always wondered if it had been from her mother’s side, it certainly wasn’t from our fathers.
I dried myself quickly and pulled on the pale blue gown. A grotesque piece of fabric that had belonged to our mother. Bethóc brushed my hair furiously, knotting it to my crown in a series of braids and letting the rest fall down my back in waves. A blade was my chosen weapon, not a comb.
‘How do I look?’ I asked.
‘Father will be pleased.’
‘Let us hope for all our sakes that it pleases the Jarl.’
‘God will bless us.’ She picked up a hair stick from the gifts the Northmen had brought for her and slipped it between my braids. Surely, she was old enough to know that such gifts did not come without a price. A price I would pay on my father’s behalf.
‘He can do nothing but fall in love with you, look at you.’ she smiled, with the thin trail of a tear on her cheek. ‘Now you look like a bride,’ she fixed the last of the silver arm rings; entwined with snakes and wolves.
I studied the trinkets adorning my arms. ‘It is you who should have a gift!’ How had I forgotten? ‘Your wedding and I have nothing for you, with everything that has happene-.’
‘I need no gift.’
I studied her face as she cast her eyes to the floor. I felt a familiar lump in my throat. I remembered that look all too well.
‘What is it?’
‘Why did you agree to it, Olith?’ her words came out in no more than a whisper. ‘No one asked you to.’
‘No, they did not.’ I said, turning away from her. ‘It is my choice. It is God’s will.
?
As we stepped out into the darkness the sky above us churned, sending great bolts of lightning rumbling across the Northern Sky. Two ravens swept against its greyness. Circling and weaving like smudges of spilt ink.
The storm made the uneven timbers of the walkway slippery underfoot I held the wooden balustrade as we made our way to the great hall.
‘An omen for the Norse,’ I said as we shuffled through the archway and into the Great Hall. Whether it was good or bad, I was not so sure.
In the darkness the flames from the firepit danced and licked, cloaking the Northmen in monstrous shadows. My eyes searched the gloom but there was no sign of Donada. All about the walls, the weapons were laid. There would be no violence tonight. My father’s men had taken root, growing like weeds. I could smell the ale on them. Hear their drunkenness. It was a good thing they remained unarmed; my father’s men could fight with themselves in an empty room.
‘Don’t slouch, Olith.’ Bethóc hissed in my ear.
‘A wasnae!’
And there she was. Donada. Fresh-faced, she weaved her way amongst the bodies, as they vied for a better view. What mymemory has conjured from that evening is hazy, but what I do remember is the wonder. She looked her best. She had brushed out her long hair until it shone like gold and had worn the most exquisite blue silk that had no doubt been one of our mothers. She was a wilful creature, jaw set, and eyes fixed on her prize. She would have set the whole fortress on fire, just to watch it burn.
She truly meant to hurt me.
Amid the shouts and the curses, I watched on, as she smiled and curtsied. Tossing her golden hair this way and that. She was such a foolish girl then, thinking it was some great honour to marry the Jarl. No doubt she thought she was already in love with him, at least the idea of him. Marrying a tall, handsome prince was all she had ever dreamt about, but Jarl Sigurd was no prince. Sometimes she acted like such a child.
‘Jarl Sigurd.’ Even over the din I could hear the smile in her voice. ‘It pleases me to finally meet you.’
