He opened his eyes to speak, hollow-eyed and gaunt from pain. ‘Do you forgive me?’ he mumbled.
I bent down closer that I might hear him. ‘Forgive you? For what?’
‘For not listening.’ He grimaced, trying to face me.
‘Ack, aye, I’m furious.’ I kissed him again. ‘But it will wait until you are back on your feet.’
‘I love you,’ he whispered, closing his eyes again.
I ran my hand lightly over his hair, pushing stray bloodied hairs from his face. ‘And I you,’ I said before tucking the furs tighter around him.
I longed to smell the sea as I stared out across the vastness of the firth, pine-scattered hills opening out into a sea that was in no need of its banks. The ships cut through the firth like hot knives through butter. The more distance we put between us, the safer we would be. My father’s men were not sailors. It was Danes who owned those waters.
Before long the Ormen Korte made her way back across the Pentland Firth, wind behind her billowing sails. All about us, the perfume of the sea-salted water sprayed our faces. I listened to the rhythmic swish of the oars, once a sound that woke fear now it brought peace.
Sigurd lay still now, his face war-warn with a dreadful pallor, but I was sure the sea would soothe him. I could not relax, every time I felt my belly tighten another pain washed over me. I tried to stand, steadying myself on the gunwale. All I could think of was movement. Movement would take the pain away. How wrong I could be.
‘Where are you going?’ Donada stirred sleepily.
‘To see Sigurd.’ I pulled one of the furs to cover her shoulders. ‘Rest. We are safe.’
For then, I could not show my fear. Our ships were full of sick and injured men. If my father attacked again, we would all be dead.
I climbed awkwardly over the benches, slowed by my size. Oarsmen gave a hand to steady me as I navigated the boat. Amidships, a pain washed over me again. Much stronger than the last. I bent double, gripping the bench in front of me, my whole-body rigid.
Born too soon and it would bring a sickly child. That I knew. I breathed heavily, sagging again once the contraction had passed.
‘Olith?’ I felt Donada’s hand against my back.
‘I’m all right,’ I lied. ‘It has passed. I just need to sit.’
Two men that I did not know parted to make space for me.
‘Sit,’ said Donada. ‘You are doing too much.’
I felt the pain begin to build again.
Not now. Not Here. It is too soon. Much too soon.
Chapter 35
Thorfinn Sigurdsson
Lord help me!’ I cried out as another contraction rippled across my exhausted body. ‘It is too soon! He is no ready!’
Now, I was on all fours at the stern, with my gown bunched up around my waist revealing milk-white thighs; stark against the black blood soaking into the furs beneath me. My hands were smeared in it too, leaving bloodied finger marks. It is not how you want a score of men to remember their Jarl.
The crisp sea air; sharp against the metallic smell of my blood, blew cool against my skin. I wished for Estrid. I even wished for my mother. Hands that had delivered a hundred babies before mine. Not my sister who had had little more experience than helping birth a lamb that had become breached. Ligach’s hands held me firmly, while nimble fingers cradled the tiny skull as it pressed between my legs. ‘Here.’ Ligach thrust a small piece of amber into my hand. ‘Hold this against your stomach.’
‘Come now,’ said Donada. ‘It’s time.’
Groaning and whimpering I rocked on all fours as the force of another contraction came, causing a shuddering that left me glinting with sweat.
‘One more push.’ Ligach’s spade-like hand rubbed against my back.
I strained and bellowed through gritted teeth as each contraction came quicker than the last causing the softness of my stomach to harden. High above I heard a falcon cry. Freyja watching over us.
When I felt like I could push no longer, something inside me gave and with a hot, slippery rush of fluid, the baby came. I collapsed on my side.
