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‘So she sews and tries to excel at women’s work.’ The words tasted bitter in her mouth. ‘Did you see the cakes I burnt this morning? Thora, the cook, has banished me from the kitchen. I even toppled over the cat’s milk on my way here.’
Silently she added that, at this rate, she’d never be able to travel again. Mastering even the simplest woman’s task appeared to be beyond her. Every time she made the slightest error, she heard her stepmother’s voice mocking her.
‘You will make the right sort of wife for the Sea-Rider and the right sort of mother for my Inga. This is the third morning that I read the signs and they are good. The Norns approve.’
‘There are precious few women warriors, but I was one.’ Sayrid tapped a finger against her mouth. Silently she vowed that she’d help make Inga’s dream come true. ‘I will see what can be done. Where is she?’
‘Inga is too tired and has fallen asleep in her bed. But she made me promise to bring this to you as she wants to see your summer eyes sparkle.’ The old woman smiled. ‘I will wake her for the meal and perhaps she sees you in it, yes? Always this way with the travelling. The next day she sleeps.’
‘Between you, Inga and my sister, my poor skill won’t be missed.’
‘If you try, you will succeed.’ Magda thumped her chest. ‘I teach you if you teach Inga to sail a boat and fight with a sword.’
‘They are not occupations for a lady. Her father…’
The nurse tapped the side of her nose. ‘But she wishes to learn. She speaks of nothing else as we stitch this dress this morning, but she fears asking the giantess.’
There was a way she could help Inga. Hrolf might object to her learning about swords, but there were other things she could teach, like tafl or the art of reciting poetry. Sayrid hugged the gown to her chest. ‘I’ll find a way to get Hrolf to agree.’
‘You need to look like a woman, not wear the clothes of a man or a thrall when you ask for anything. He likes women in his bed, not boys.’
‘To keep you happy, I will try it on.’ Sayrid struggled out of her old gown.
‘Shall I help?’ Magda started to go around.
‘I can do it,’ Sayrid said quickly before Magda saw the scars. But the old woman had frozen and was staring. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Did you get these from fighting?’ Magda asked, pointing and making a little click in the back of her throat.
‘Something like that. It happened a long time ago.’ Sayrid scowled. ‘Shall we get the dress on?’
Magda looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she pressed her lips together and lifted the new dress over Sayrid’s head.
Unlike the one she had worn at the wedding, this one fitted, falling to a few inches above the floor. It swirled gently about her ankles as she turned. It made her feel soft and feminine. She stopped abruptly. She’d never expected to feel that way.
‘Do you like?’
‘You and Inga are geniuses with your needles. This is the best dress I have ever had.’
Magda smiled. ‘Hrolf will only have eyes for his bride now.’
‘What has my wife been doing now? Except for watching the men training from behind a wooden post?’
Sayrid’s cheeks burnt. She rapidly went over the conversation. Surely there was nothing incriminating. And she had kept her scars covered for the most part. ‘How long have you been standing there? What do you want? If you ask any of the servants, they will be happy to find it for you.’
‘I’ve been standing here long enough. And the servants can’t give me what I need.’
She pinched the bridge of her nose and attempted to breathe steadily. Her heart wanted there to be a wealth of hidden meaning in his words. ‘The keys to all the cupboards are hanging up. Nothing is to be hidden. I gave orders. If you wish to inspect where the women hide during an attack, it can be arranged.’
He motioned to Magda and the nurse disappeared. ‘You did not appear at supper last night. Or at breakfast. And despite my thinking the training would bring you out, you stayed away.’
‘You don’t want a wife who trains with the men.’
He raised his brow. ‘Since when did my wishes have anything to do with your actions?’
‘Isn’t that what a wife is supposed to do?’ she asked the floor.
‘You’re avoiding me.’
‘I burnt the cakes.’ She backed away slightly, knocking over a stack of shields. She gave a faint cry and started to pick them up, only to send the spears crashing in the other direction as the sleeve of her new dress caught them. ‘I’ll clean up this mess.’
