by A. E. Rayne
She couldn’t have been that old, Jael supposed, but she had so many lines buried into her face that it was hard to imagine she had ever been young at all. There was certainly nothing to admire about her now, but that was more because of her sour glare and turned-down lips, which were mean and miserly. Her hair was wrapped in a faded yellow scarf, her hands wedged firmly into ample hips. It was not much of a welcome, Jael decided.
‘What are you doing here?’ Thorgils head appeared over the top of his mother’s. Her head came up to just past his waist and was only half the size of his.
He must take after his father, Jael decided, trying not to grin or grimace. ‘I was hoping to speak to you,’ she said, raising an eyebrow, trying to convey the need for privacy as his mother peered on with an open mouth.
‘Mother, this is Jael –’ Thorgils began politely.
‘You think I don’t know who this is, boy?’ she hissed up to her son through a handful of brown-stained teeth. ‘My eyes work just fine, same as yours.’ She turned back to Jael. ‘I saw you beat her. I was there when you defeated this woman, here. I know who she is alright.’ She glared at Jael, her baggy eyes bulging with dislike.
‘I need to go, Mother,’ Thorgils said carefully as he disappeared to grab his cloak. ‘I’ll be back later.’
‘Later, when?’ Odda Svanter barked at her large, only child.
‘Later, when I return. If I do,’ he smiled, ducking through the door and kissing her lightly on the scarf. ‘But don’t worry about any food for me, I’ll have something in the hall, no doubt.’
Odda frowned at them both, and Jael turned away without saying another word. What a wretch of a woman, she thought. How had Thorgils managed to grow up with such a smile on his face?
They walked away from the long-reaching scowl, as it followed them from the doorway, without a word, both too busy concentrating on the slippery ground than the need to smooth everything over right away.
‘You have saved me from another evening with my mother, and for that, I am in your debt,’ Thorgils winked at Jael with a flash of his old humour. He’d seen something in her eyes when she’d come to his doorway, as though she’d returned from that dark place. He hoped he was right.
‘We cannot tell Branwyn,’ Edela insisted firmly as they walked away from Alaric’s cottage.
‘No, I agree,’ Aleksander said solemnly. ‘That would be hard for any parent to hear. That their child was killed accidentally? Mistaken for someone else?’ He shook his head, still in shock.
It was dark now and the cold bit at their legs as they walked. Despite the plummeting temperature, neither were in a hurry to return to Branwyn and Kormac’s house; there was much to discuss.
‘Evva was so gentle, so innocent,’ Edela said sadly, tears threatening her eyes again. ‘They murdered her because they thought she was Jael. But who were they? Where did they come from?’ She shuddered. ‘I wish Alaric had known more, but I’m certain he told us all he could.’ She gripped Aleksander firmly as they came upon a crowd bustling outside a meat vendor. The smell of cooking meat called to her empty stomach, and it rumbled back in return. They had been at Alaric’s a long time, and he hadn’t offered them anything other than that insipid ale-water. Poor man, she thought sadly.
Aleksander rolled things around inside his head. ‘If those people thought they had killed Jael, how long do you think it took them to realise that she was still alive? And did they try again?’
‘I don’t know. It would make sense for them to try again, though, wouldn’t it? But I suppose getting into Andala was a lot harder than coming into Tuura that night. There were barely any fortifications back then. Not like now.’
‘Do you think that’s why Ranuf started training Jael as soon as we were home? That one of the elders did tell him about what had happened?’ Aleksander wondered.
‘Possibly, but what we really need to find out is who those people were. What sort of people kill a 10-year-old girl because they fear what she will become? What does the prophecy say Jael will do?’
‘Well, I don’t imagine your elder friend will be telling you that in a hurry, will she?’ Aleksander smiled as they came to a stop outside the house.
‘No,’ Edela murmured. ‘But we know a lot more than we did, and that’s something. So, now we just have to sleep on it, and hopefully, I can dream on it. And tomorrow, perhaps we can think up a list of possible enemies. If we can do that, it might take us even closer to the answers we need.’
Aleksander nodded and opened the door, ushering Edela inside, wondering as he did, just who had led those raiders to Tuura that night? Who had let them in? He shook his head, tired of there being so many unanswered questions swimming about in there.
Thorgils stopped and turned around, surprised. ‘You’re not coming?’ The snow was heavy in his beard, and he shook it out, peering at Jael questioningly.
Jael didn’t move. ‘I think it’s better that you do it. You go. On your own.’ She had stopped, not far from Eadmund’s cottage, uncertainty flaring again.
Thorgils frowned and walked back to her. ‘Jael, I don’t think it’s going to work without you.’
‘Why do you say that?’ she said uncomfortably. ‘It’s a tincture. Anyone could pour it into his mouth.’
‘I don’t think that’s the point of it, do you?’ he said softly. ‘Your grandmother made this for you to give him. Not me, but you, when you were ready to do it. Do you really think it will work if I give it to him?’
Jael had a mouthful of words ready, reasons why she didn’t need to go with him, but instead, she just opened and closed her lips and stared at Thorgils blankly, her insides turning over and over.
Thorgils smiled kindly at her, sensing her unease. ‘You came and got me for a reason, Jael. You want to help him. Don’t run away now.’ He stared into her eyes. Despite the thickness of the snow, he could see the panic as it flitted across her face.
Eadmund had quickly swallowed the contents of the two jugs of ale he’d found in his cottage. His head was throbbing, and he felt a little sick, but despite that, he was wondering how he was going to get some more, and quickly. He yawned as he sat on the edge of his bed, convincing himself of the need to stand up, but not sure if his legs still worked. His stomach rumbled, but he didn’t care for food. He was thirsty, though, he realised, and ale wasn’t about to come to him, so if he wanted more, and he definitely wanted more, he would have to go and find some himself; hopefully without being seen by his father, or Ivaar, or Jael, or Thorgils. Even Isaura, he grimaced, guiltily. He tried to blink away the memory of her pitying face.
It was completely dark in the cottage. The fire he had hastily put together had not taken and was now just a pile of scorched logs. He’d not been able to find lamps or candles and had given up on the idea of light or warmth altogether. He just wanted ale.
His mind wandered back to the bed at Jael’s house. His whole body sighed with longing, but he didn’t think he’d be welcome there anymore, not when Jael had become so friendly with Ivaar. He remembered her face when she was with Ivaar. Ivaar’s too. There was definitely something there, and he wanted no part of it; he was done with Ivaar’s games.
Eadmund shook his head, driven to stand by his overwhelming desire for another drink. He would take the risk, gather his supplies and come back to his cottage and drink all thoughts of Ivaar and Jael away. He stumbled towards the door, wrapping himself in his fur cloak, already missing the warmth of his lonely bed.
The door shot open, knocking into him. He lost his already unstable footing and fell over backwards, his head hitting the floorboards with a loud crack.
‘Eadmund!’ Thorgils rushed over to his prone friend, horrified. ‘Are you alright?’
Jael laughed awkwardly as she closed the door behind them. ‘What were you doing standing behind the door?’
Eadmund groaned as Thorgils tried to help him to his feet. He was mostly dead weight, and despite his size, Thorgils could barely raise him. Jael stepped in t
o help and between the two of them, they managed to get Eadmund up; his head wobbling about, his eyes opening and closing, as he moved in and out of consciousness. The stench of his breath had them both squinting.
‘How were you even standing on your own?’ Thorgils wondered.
The room was dark, but Jael could just see Eadmund’s bleary eyes trying to focus on her. He looked confused, a little cross, and thoroughly drunk. She sighed, wondering at their chances of success. This tincture would surely have to be magic if they were to have any hope.
‘Come on, come sit on the bed,’ Thorgils said kindly as he helped Eadmund down onto his pile of furs. ‘I’ll go and sort that fire out. We need some light in here.’ He watched as Eadmund swayed unsteadily about on the bed, then glanced at Jael, who was standing there, watching, obviously still doubting her decision to come. ‘Perhaps you can go and hold him up? I need to get the wood.’
Jael sighed and sat down next to her unstable husband, grabbing his arm to steady him; he flinched.
‘Why are you here?’ he slurred angrily, his head bobbing towards her face. ‘Is Ivaar busy?’
Jael let go of his arm and pushed him backwards. He tipped over easily and just lay there, without another word. ‘Perhaps it’s best if you have a little sleep now,’ she murmured.
Thorgils walked back into the cottage with an armful of snow-covered logs and saw Eadmund lying with his eyes closed and Jael sitting by the fire. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Your soothing voice put him to sleep, no doubt?’
‘Something like that,’ she smiled as she grabbed a log from him and placed it into the fire.
Thorgils added some twigs and tinder, and together they resurrected the flames. Eadmund’s cottage was frigid, and they had plans to be there for a long time. They had to make it habitable, or they’d all freeze tonight.
Isaura lay still, her heart thudding anxiously in her chest as she listened to Ivaar’s steady breathing. He had barely wanted to touch her since their arrival on Oss; it had been both a surprise and a wonderful relief. No doubt he had found some servant girl to molest. Oh, how glad she was for the number of servants there were in the fort; so much more than on Kalfa. And then there was Jael; perhaps she was the reason Ivaar seemed so distracted, so uninterested in her anymore? Isaura had assumed he was merely playing with her for the sake of torturing Eadmund, but perhaps there was more to it than that? She could certainly see the appeal of Jael to a man like Ivaar. Not so much for a man like Eadmund, or at least the Eadmund she had known. This version looked nothing like the man she remembered. She’d never seen such a damaged, broken creature. He appeared to be trapped in the past, never escaping his heartbreak. She knew how he felt.
Ivaar sighed heavily and rolled towards her, flinging one arm across her chest. She froze, her breathing stilled, and she waited. He snuffled, groaned, and started snoring loudly again, his breathing resuming a steady rhythm. She closed her eyes, her body sinking into the bed, imagining how different life would have been if she had married Thorgils. She thought of Ivaar and their children then, and that small flicker of hope was snuffed out. Now it was even worse. Now Thorgils was close; closer to her and closer to Ivaar. One wrong move and Ivaar would certainly kill him, that she knew. She had watched him train every day on Kalfa. She had seen the care he had taken of his sword, the fierce, single-minded way he had practised. He had been driven, from their first day in exile, determined to find a way back to Oss, to take his revenge. And now here they were at last, and she didn’t know what he was about to do.
‘Why are you here?’ Eadmund was awake now. He felt confused, and although his head seemed clearer, he couldn’t put his thoughts into any order that made sense.
Jael looked hesitantly towards Thorgils, who was busy looking at his feet. She sighed. ‘We came to help you.’
Eadmund snorted. ‘And why do I need your help?’
Thorgils looked up, frowning. ‘Why? Well, let’s see... your brother already thinks he’s the king and you’re hiding out here, wobbling about as drunk as an ale-soaked apple, with no hope of stopping him.’
‘Stopping him?’ Eadmund scoffed. ‘You think I could stop him? Ha! How am I supposed to do that?’
‘Well, you could breathe on him,’ Jael suggested tartly.
Thorgils glared at her, although he had to admit that Eadmund did reek. ‘You can stop him by convincing Eirik that you deserve a second chance.’
Eadmund shook his head. ‘He’s not about to give me that. He’s made his choice. He’s too proud to go back on his word.’
‘Eirik doesn’t want Ivaar as king,’ Jael insisted. ‘He wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble over this marriage of ours if he’d been thinking of bringing Ivaar back. Ivaar has always been his second choice. You just have to remind him why you were his first.’
Eadmund didn’t want to look at her, or listen to her; it was all too confusing. He closed his eyes and saw her with Ivaar, then blinked and looked away.
‘Listen, Eadmund, we can help you,’ Thorgils said quietly, leaning closer to his friend. ‘Truly. Jael’s grandmother is a dreamer. She made this tincture here to help you.’
Eadmund looked suspiciously at the tiny, brown bottle that Thorgils pulled out of his pocket, watching the way the glass glinted ominously by the firelight. ‘Help me do what? What did she see I needed help with?’
Thorgils squirmed and looked hopefully at Jael.
‘Well, you’re a big, fat drunkard, Eadmund,’ Jael said bluntly. ‘The tincture is supposed to help you change all of that.’
Thorgils sighed. ‘What your sweet wife over there means, is that this can help you stop drinking.’
‘What?!’ Eadmund stood up angrily and swayed for a moment, his cloak flapping close to the flames. Thorgils stood up to grab him, but Eadmund ignored him and stomped away from the fire. ‘I do not need help with that!’
‘No?’ Thorgils wondered sarcastically. ‘You can just stop it on your own, can you? Because nothing will change until you do. Not for you, and certainly not for Eirik. If you keep drinking like this, Ivaar will have everything he wants. You will be giving Ivaar the kingdom. And worse than that, you will be giving Ivaar your life and mine, Isaura’s, Eydis’, Jael’s. Eydis has seen your father dying soon, and whatever happens, you have to get better, or we will all die.’
Eadmund walked over to his bed and sat down with a thud. He wanted to vomit, could feel the bile rushing up into his throat. He grimaced and dropped his head, wishing it all away. He needed to think, but it seemed to be the one thing he was completely incapable of.
Jael came and sat beside him.
‘Why the sudden change?’ Eadmund snapped at her. ‘Why do you want to help me? You and Ivaar are such good friends. Why help me defeat him?’ He couldn’t bring himself to look into her eyes, afraid of what he would find.
Thorgils laughed as he sat down on Eadmund’s other side, the bed creaking angrily under his additional bulk. ‘Oh, that was Jael’s plan, didn’t you know? She was trying to distract Ivaar.’
Eadmund frowned but at the same time, his spirits lifted ever so slightly. ‘Your plan?’ He raised his eyes as high as he dared, just catching hers.
‘It was a good plan!’ she grumbled at Thorgils, then turned to Eadmund. ‘Ivaar seemed to like me well enough, so I thought I might as well encourage that, lead him away from any games he might be planning for you. Let him play with me instead, which he has been very keen to do.’
Both Eadmund and Thorgils raised their eyebrows at that.
‘What do you mean, play with you?’ Eadmund wondered dully, shaking his head. ‘You never want to let Ivaar play with you. He’s a sick bastard. He’ll always find a way to get what he wants.’
‘I agree,’ Thorgils said, poking at the fire. ‘He’s dangerous. You don’t know him as we do.’
Jael shrugged their concerns away. ‘Look, the most important thing is to get you right, Eadmund, to get you back in front of your father so that he can believe in you again.
So that he remembers why he stood by you all these years, while you drunk yourself into this mess. You owe him something, and the people of Oss, and Eydis, and even Thorgils here. They’ve all cared for you, and helped you, and wanted you to come back to them. And if you don’t, if you stay like this, and Ivaar is made king, who knows what will happen to them. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?’
Her words hit Eadmund like a dull blow, and he lurched, stumbling off the bed and running for the door. He opened it just in time to get his head out, before vomiting loudly.
Jael cringed at the violent, retching sounds coming from outside and looked at Thorgils, who smiled crookedly at her. ‘You have a way with words, it seems.’
40
Eydis didn’t know why she was here.
Her father had asked her to sit with him as he met with Sevrin, the head of his army, and Otto, his fleet commander. She was pleased that she couldn’t see their faces, but she could imagine the surprise on them; they would both be wondering why she was there. She could hear it in their words, could almost feel their eyes turning quizzically in her direction. Eydis kept her head turned down, towards her clasped hands, and her mouth closed. She was still disturbed by her meeting with Ayla, disturbed and uncertain how she felt about the woman. The dull droning of the men meandered around as she sat there, preoccupied, barely listening.
‘But if we fail?’ Eirik couldn’t help but glance at Eydis then, annoyed that she didn’t seem to be paying any attention. He frowned, not wanting to even consider such an outcome, but still, he was king and needed to ensure the safety of his people. ‘If we fail and they come after us?’
Otto scoffed, which was typical of him, Eirik thought regretfully. He had led their last disastrous attack on Skorro. Perhaps he should have had him removed from his position before now, but there was no one as experienced to take over; no one that he trusted, at least. Eirik shook his head and tried to focus, but it was hard. He had not seen Morac since their argument and was beginning to realise how much he had relied upon his old friend. After all these years, Morac knew Eirik well enough to know how Oss should run, without the need for endless debate. But now, without Morac’s planning and foresight, he was flailing about like a child. He knew there were things he must do to keep their plans for the invasion rolling along, and the contest, and Vesta’s Feast, which was coming too. But the what, when, and how of organising it all was overwhelming him.
