by A. E. Rayne
Jael scowled. She didn’t want to hear this. Her grandmother had guided and advised her throughout her life. Her visions of the future had always come true – well, those that she had told her about, at least. There was no reason to doubt her now, as desperate as she was to. ‘But Eadmund Skalleson? Eadmund the Drunkard?’ she snorted. ‘That’s the husband your gods see me with? Are you sure you have the right man?’
‘Well...’ Edela admitted, with a twinkle in her eye, ‘that part of my dream is a little confusing, but yes, he is the one I have always seen.’
‘The one?’ Jael felt ready to vomit. She absentmindedly sipped the hot tea, grimacing as it scalded the tip her tongue.
‘You must remember that he hasn’t always been known by that name, has he? He was Eadmund the Bold when you fought him all those years ago.’
Jael thought on that, trying to recall the fleeting moment she had trapped him beneath her sword, so long ago now; she didn’t remember him at all. She gritted her teeth, overcome by another burst of seething rage. ‘No! I’m not going to do it! I’m not going to leave Andala! What about Axl? Who will look after him? Or you, or Mother? And what about Aleksander...’ her angry eyes softened suddenly, and she sighed.
Edela reached out and took Jael’s hand, her eyes full of sympathy.
Jael snatched it back. ‘You never thought Aleksander and I were meant to be together. I knew that,’ she said harshly.
‘No,’ Edela admitted. ‘That is true, as much as I love you both. But you and Eadmund, I believe, are meant to be. I have dreamed about this since you were born, in many different ways, over and over.’ She stared earnestly at her granddaughter. ‘I know it for certain. He is the father of the child you will have.’
Edela’s words were delivered so easily, that Jael almost didn’t hear what she’d said, but the shock suddenly flooded her entire face. ‘Child?’ she breathed, as realisation dawned, belatedly. ‘Of course, that’s what they want me for. They don’t want my sword. They want my belly full of heirs!’ She looked defeated, deflated. ‘And you see that as my future? A mother? A wife?’
‘Yes, there is that, but you will have your sword, of that I have no doubt.’
‘Well, not according to Lothar, who has claimed it as his own.’
Edela raised her eyebrows, then smiled. ‘Things are not always as they seem, I promise you that. Our lives shift and change like the clouds. Nothing stands still, not while we are living,’ she sighed. ‘I see you with your sword. What sword that is, I do not know, but there is one in your hand, always.’
Jael felt confused, if not slightly heartened by that news. But a child? With Eadmund the Drunkard? How was she going to tell Aleksander?
Osbert was drunk; drunk and pissing against the side of the blacksmith’s shed when he saw Jael heading in his direction. Blinking a few times to clear his cloudy vision, he shook off his dripping cock, resettling his fur cloak about himself. Standing just a little bit taller than normal – he was not a large man, much to his own irritation – he stepped out into the street, seizing hold of his cousin’s arm as she flew by.
Jael jerked her head around in surprise, wrenching her arm out of his grip. Seeing it was Osbert, stinking of drink, she was eager to be gone, but again he reached out and grabbed her roughly, his sharp fingernails pinching into her now. She glared down at him, her face betraying no signs of the discomfort he was causing. ‘What do you want, Osbert?’ she fumed, as the wind screamed between them.
He almost stumbled then, his footing uncertain in the thick mud, but he righted himself quickly, narrowing his mean eyes. ‘This could all have been so different, Jael,’ he slurred through freezing lips. ‘You need not have become a pawn in my father’s game. You could have stayed here, in Andala, as you have always wanted to, as Queen of Brekka, as my wife.’ He was leaning closer to her now, his spittle flying towards her in the wind.
Jael curled away from him in disgust, yanking her arm free and standing her ground firmly. ‘You?’ she mocked. ‘You think you would make a better husband than the Drunkard? You think I’d rather have Osbert the Coward in my bed?’ she seethed at him. ‘No, Cousin, your father has made me a much better match than you would ever have been. I’m touched by the honour he has shown me.’
Her words slapped Osbert harshly across the face. Colour rose in his cheeks as he pursed his small, thin lips, trying to contain his fury. ‘If you say so, Jael’, he bit down, eyeing her threateningly. ‘But, just remember... while you’re on Oss, with your new husband, your fat belly, and your runt litter of slave princes, it is I who will be here watching over your family.’ His satisfaction bloomed as he watched the twist in Jael’s face. ‘You never know what accident may befall them if you’re not careful. I’d hate for you to lose another member of your dwindling family.’ His threat expertly delivered, Osbert smiled and turned, stumbling away to the King’s Hall, where he planned to warm his bones and drown the miserable bitch out of his head.
Numbed by his words, Jael watched as Osbert’s hunched figure was sucked back into the night. If anyone was capable of true evil, it was her cousin. He had a strange obsession with her. He had wanted her as his wife, but thankfully Lothar had seen no benefit in such a marriage for his only son. She had rebuffed his constant advances and made a fool of him on many occasions; now that would come around to haunt her. He was right; she would have to leave everyone behind, with Lothar and Osbert to watch over them. She may as well be leaving a litter of kittens to the mercy of two starving dogs.
Aleksander was waiting when Jael arrived back at Gisila’s cottage, his dark eyes troubled. He wasn’t easy to anger and even now, when faced with losing the woman he loved, he still managed to retain a level of unnatural calm. They had been inseparable for 17 years, lovers for the past 12. He wouldn’t accept that this was the end; he couldn’t lose her.
‘Jael.’ Aleksander came towards her as she entered the cottage, but Jael’s arms remained firmly at her sides, her face expressionless as she stood there silently in front of him, Axl, and her mother.
She could barely look at Aleksander’s face; that very handsome, sad face. His thick eyebrows hooded deep, brown eyes, almost black, but so kind and understanding. How he had endured her furious ways, she would never know. Dropping her head, Jael ignored the desperate looks and went to warm her hands by the fire. She shivered as some feeling returned to her body, reluctantly turning around to face them.
‘What did Edela have to say?’ Gisila wondered anxiously. She had been talking about nothing else since Axl and Aleksander had arrived.
Jael ignored her.
‘Where were you?’ she asked, staring accusingly at Aleksander.
He was surprised by that.
‘I was hunting. I told you before I left,’ he answered defensively, coming to join Jael by the fire. ‘I went to the hall to find you. Gant told me what had happened, so I came straight here.’
‘You’re back late.’
‘It was treacherous out there. I could barely see, and I wasn’t going to risk Ren.’ He shook his head, confused. Worried. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Lothar made his... announcement.’
Jael swallowed hard at the unwelcome reminder, dismissing his words. She was angry at him, unfairly. What could he have done to make anything different? In fact, it would have made it worse to have him there; worse for him to be humiliated in front of everyone as his lover was taken from him and given to another, less worthy man.
‘Jael.’ Gisila was insistent now. ‘What did your grandmother say?’
Jael sighed, walking a treacherous path in her mind as she considered what to reveal. ‘She... she thought it was... the right thing to happen. She had seen that it would happen.’ Jael couldn’t say anymore. She looked away into the corner of the room, her heart and head clouded with confusion.
Aleksander’s face fell. He could tell that she had made up her mind to go along with Lothar, not to fight or run; Edela must have said something to convince her. Jael had al
ways been impossibly stubborn. If she believed in a cause, she would never give in; he had witnessed that enough times. But now, as she hung her head and hid her face from them all, he knew. He turned and left the cottage, without another word.
Jael turned to see the door hanging open in his wake. Her shoulders drooped; this was not going to be easy, whichever path she decided to take.
‘The right thing?’ Axl looked doubtful as he strode over to face his sister, who was almost as tall as he was. ‘How is this the right thing for you, or us? They will make you a breeder, and you will be lost to Brekka forever. There will be no hope of me taking the throne from Lothar without you, which of course, he knows.’ He was disgusted and frustrated. He had imagined Jael would do anything to stay in Andala, that she would never give up the chance to reclaim their father’s throne. He didn’t understand her lack of reaction at all.
Jael turned on Axl. ‘How will my staying here change anything?’ Heated now by the warmth of the room and her own discomfort, she removed her cloak and threw it over a stool, leaving the fire to stand further away, uncertain how or where to be. ‘What have we been able to do to weaken Lothar’s position since he arrived?’ she whispered hoarsely. Lothar’s spies were everywhere, and she didn’t want the wind carrying her words out into the night. ‘He has the army behind him. He has turned all of Father’s men to his favour. There is nothing here for us. No future, no hope. It’s gone, Axl!’ She gestured around the tiny room, to the dried mud and reeds on the floor, the rough-hewn furniture, the absence of any real light. ‘Does this look like the home of Brekka’s royal family anymore?’
‘Well, we won’t know now, will we?’ Axl spat defiantly, his temper rising to match hers.
Jael stepped closer to her brother, glaring into his simmering, hazel eyes. ‘You think I can do something to change this?’ she demanded, frowning. ‘Kill Lothar? And then, what? Kill Osbert? And how would his men respond to that? Happily? I don’t imagine so. Or, we could run, but where would we go? Lothar has allies in nearly every kingdom, and those he isn’t allied with would still turn us in. No one wants him for their enemy. We would never be safe! Is that what you want? For our family to run until we are hunted down and slaughtered? Can you see Edela living like that?’
‘Stop!’ Gisila implored, coming between her two children, pushing them apart. ‘Come and sit down, both of you. It is no night to be on different sides. We must stay united if we are to stay alive.’ She sighed deeply. The sudden change in their circumstances had left her feeling so much older than her 52 years. Her long, dark hair was now thick with silver strands, her much-admired figure, frail and thin. She had been Queen of Brekka for nearly 30 years, married to Ranuf, a man she had fought and argued with, loved and despised, in equal measure. The shame of being reduced to this lesser existence had damaged her pride, the loss of her husband had broken her spirit, but she had hope still, and that hope was living within Axl and Jael. She knew the way back to her rightful place in Brekka was through them; if only she could keep them believing that.
‘And what of you, Mother?’ Jael wondered sharply. ‘Why didn’t you know that any of this was coming?’
Gisila looked surprised. ‘Why would I?’
‘You and Lothar are very friendly, Mother,’ Axl said, joining his sister. ‘Especially since Rinda died.’
Gisila felt offended to be under attack. ‘Not like that, we’re not! Nor have we ever been, if you’re to know the truth of it. Lothar may wish for things, but I am no slave as things stand, and therefore he will not get anything from me that I do not wish to give. And I do not wish to give that!’
‘Still, you have always been unusually close to him, Mother.’ Jael was not prepared to accept her words so readily and was looking for a fight.
‘And if I am?’ Gisila whispered crossly. ‘I need to keep us all safe. It is not just the two of you who are thinking of our future.’ She shook her head, tears leaking into the heavy creases around her swollen eyes. ‘I’m trying to keep us all alive! Do you think I want to do that? Charm and placate the man who stole the throne from you, Axl? No, I do what I must to protect us all. It is not easy, but what choice do I have?’
Tears slid down Gisila’s drawn face and Axl, who hated to see his mother cry, put one arm around her shoulder.
Jael stared blankly at the door, wondering where Aleksander had gone, wanting to be with him but at the same time desperate to grab her horse and ride until she couldn’t be found. Inside her head, she was screaming for a way out, but Edela’s words echoed, imploring her to keep to the path before her, the path that only Edela and her gods could see.
And beside her, Gisila sobbed, and Axl simmered. And Aleksander had gone.
2
The King’s Hall was humming with urgent voices, interrupted now and then by the bang and clatter of plates being removed, as Lothar’s guests finished their evening meal. There was only one topic of conversation that passed from open mouth to eager ear, and that was the king’s surprising plan for Jael.
Most of the men in the hall had been born in Brekka, had served loyally under Ranuf, and fought alongside Jael. They had reluctantly supported Lothar’s claim to the throne; none of them had any confidence in Axl as a worthy successor to his father. He was a wet-about-the-ears sort of boy with no battle experience and none of the fire of his sister. If Ranuf had made Jael his heir, their loyalty wouldn’t have wavered, but she had surprisingly been put aside before her father’s death and had made no move to change her position. Therefore, sensibly, or so they believed, Ranuf’s men had chosen to put their swords behind Lothar; he was Ranuf’s brother after all. But, in two short years, he had proven himself to be the complete opposite of the leader they had imagined he would become.
Lothar could feel the tension simmering before him. The two fires in the centre of the hall burned high, but the flames were not enough to lift the murkiness that hung about the room. The tables that lined the walls were filled with outlines and shadows; faces masked in a dark, orange glow.
As he sat quietly at the high table, Lothar noticed the closely inclined heads and furtive glances towards him; his plan for Jael had not been well received, that was obvious. It was hardly unrest, but still, his sharp eyes raked over the unsettled mood of his people, wondering what his next move should be. He needed them compliant, at least until Jael had gone.
Osbert sat next to his father, hunched over, hungrily pawing food into his mouth, chewing with an angry impatience, still disturbed by his conversation with Jael.
‘They are not happy,’ Lothar murmured.
Osbert looked up, wiping grease and goat juice from his short, dark beard with the back of his hand. He took a sip of ale from his cup, frowning at the men before him and their hushed tones. ‘Fuck them,’ he spat, loud enough for a few heads to spin in his direction. ‘You’re the king. You can make any alliance you wish. And besides,’ he took a longer drink, ‘she’s no use to us, or them anymore. Best she’s gone.’
Osbert returned to his plate but Lothar had no appetite; he continued to survey the hall, thoughtfully. Noticing his father’s somber mood, Osbert stopped eating again, this time pushing his not-quite-finished meal away. He leaned in closer. ‘Do you trust her, Father?’
Lothar looked surprised by that. ‘Jael? Of course I don’t trust her. Do you?’
‘Well, no, but if we can’t trust her, why send her to Oss where she could plot with Eirik to destroy us?’
Lothar scoffed. ‘You think she would plot with Eirik Skalleson? Ha! I think it more likely for her to kill him than work with him against us. Ranuf hated the man, hated him and his stinking Slave Islands. Jael is not going to betray her beloved father’s memory, that I do know.’
‘Even if it means she can destroy us by doing so?’ Osbert frowned, doubting his father’s confidence.
Lothar scanned the hall quickly for any open ears, then moved his head nearer to Osbert’s. ‘Eirik came to me, wanting Jael for his son. He’s not looking for a
warrior but a breed mare. He’s getting old, and he wants heirs. For some reason he thinks Jael will make the perfect mother,’ he laughed. ‘I had assumed at her age, there was no hope for her dried up old cunt, but it seems Eirik is convinced. And the good news for us is that we remove one problem here, and, by doing so, create an alliance with Oss, meaning that between Brekka and the Islands, we will have the force to conquer Hest. Finally.’
His father could be a bold and decisive man, but he was often given to arrogance. Osbert worried that the plan was too simple, too reliant upon trust, and Osbert did not trust Jael. Lothar’s obsession with claiming Hest was clouding his every move these days. Eirik had been an enemy to Brekka ever since he had made himself King of the Slave Islands over 40 years ago. Why was he suddenly to be trusted now? Why wouldn’t he use Jael’s skill with a sword against them?
The tables were almost clean now, the ale cups refilled, and Lothar sensed an opportunity. He stood, holding his silver cup aloft in a signal to quell the room. The men and women of the hall were intrigued once more and ceased their conversations quickly. What news did Lothar have to deliver now? Even Osbert was curious as he reached for his cup with one hand, picking at his teeth with the other.
‘Jael is no longer with us this evening,’ Lothar began solemnly in his quest to reclaim the hearts of his people. ‘But if she were, I know she would agree with me that this is a good marriage for Brekka.’ He saw a few eyebrows rise at that, but he continued, unperturbed. ‘It is not what she would choose. Of course not. It is certainly not what I would choose for her, as her uncle, but she was the daughter of a great king and understands the importance of keeping Brekka safe and strong, and, to achieve that aim, sacrifices must be made. And this sacrifice, on Jael’s part, and on ours, will reap bounteous rewards for us all. We do not want to lose her, but in making this alliance with King Eirik, we now have the opportunity to take Hest together.’ His words piqued everyone’s interest; heads lifted higher now, and Lothar smiled as he continued, his confidence surging. ‘Eirik will bring his ships and his men to join us in the spring, and together we will destroy Haaron and his sons, and their land will, at last, be ours. But not just their land, for in conquering Hest, we will claim the greatest prize of all...’ He let that hang in the silence, watching as some started to salivate expectantly. ‘We will have the key to the South! We will own the port of Hest! Their harbour will be our harbour, their ships, our ships, and our opportunity for raiding and trading with the Fire Lands across the sea will be unlimited. We will be wealthy beyond all our dreams! The gods will applaud our adventures and bravery, and our names will be sung in the farthest reaches of the Northern Realm and beyond! We will make Brekka the largest, most powerful kingdom in all of Osterland!’ Lothar raised his cup to the smoke-dense roof of the hall, infused and enthused by his poetry. ‘To Brekka! And to Jael, for making this great alliance possible!’
