by A. E. Rayne
‘Oh.’
‘What is it?’ Eydis could hear the strain in Isaura’s voice, and a collective hush as it murmured its way around the hall. ‘Isaura, what it is?’
‘It’s Eadmund. He’s just stumbled inside. He doesn’t look good at all. What has happened to him?’
The house was thickly insulated, and after three nights of sleeping outdoors, Aleksander was grateful for it. Tuura was a bitterly cold place, but with the door shut and a change of clothes, he found that he had no complaints at all. There was even a fur-lined chair for him, placed right next to a blazing fire.
Branwyn had fed them well, and as he sat with his legs stretched out near the flames, Aleksander could almost feel his toes again. He sighed contentedly as he sunk back into the chair, his shoulders easing down, his muscles relaxing for the first time in weeks. Branwyn’s two sons, Aedan and Aron, had run in and run out. Her husband, Kormac, had also stopped by to welcome their visitors, before returning to work at the smithy. But now the house was almost still. The women were nattering softly to each other on one of the beds that lined the walls of the main room, and Aleksander allowed his eyes to close and his thoughts to wander far away, back to Jael, always back to her.
He remembered how she had been that night when his parents were killed. She’d come to him in Gant’s arms, covered in blood, her small body shaking, too numb to speak. She had just stared blankly at him. He must have looked much the same, he thought. Gant had put Jael down beside him, firmly instructing Aleksander to look after her. He’d shaken him by the shoulders, making his tear-filled eyes focus, forcing him to understand the importance of keeping her safe. Gant had handed Aleksander his long knife and then left, his sword drawn, ready to find the men that had done this to them. And Aleksander remembered that feeling, of being so incredibly lost and distraught in that moment, but forgetting it all when he’d looked into Jael’s eyes and saw how broken she was. He knew he had to help her then, to watch over her, because Gant had told him to, but also because he had seen something in her that he truly wanted to care for.
He wanted to keep her safe.
And now, he didn’t know how it was for her – whether she loved her husband or not – but he knew that he would do anything he could to help her, for as long as he had breath.
This was not good.
Jael caught Thorgils’ eye, and he nodded, grabbing Torstan and heading swiftly towards Eadmund’s swaying figure. Every face had turned in his direction, watching as he barged his way towards Ivaar and Jael.
‘My brother!’ Ivaar called, his lips forming a tight smile. He opened his arms out in a show of friendship, determined to appear conciliatory before his father and the people of Oss.
Eadmund saw nothing, except the fact that his brother was standing next to Jael; next to his wife. He’d seen their faces as they stood talking. As blurred and mixed up as his mind was right now, it had only taken a heartbeat to conclude what was occurring, from her silly grin, and his brother’s intense stare. Eadmund brushed away Ivaar’s outstretched arms and stopped in front of Jael instead.
‘My wife,’ he slurred into her pinched face. He turned to glare at Ivaar. ‘Of course, you would be here, next to my wife, wouldn’t you, Brother. How long did that take you? Ha! You do seem to like my wives. But you see, you are wasting your time here, for your attentions on her will do nothing to hurt me. You are welcome to this one!’ he spat, grabbing a cup of mead from the tray of a passing servant, draining it quickly. ‘Just ask our father. We have no real marriage at all.’ Eadmund glared ferociously at Jael. ‘I’m not even sure why she’s still here.’
Jael felt the shock as Eadmund’s words echoed around the hall. This was not good. Thorgils and Torstan came up behind Eadmund, their arms out, ready to pull him away but she shook her head slightly, warning them to keep back. Something had to be rescued from this mess. Eadmund was not about to go quietly, and if she didn’t do something, the only winner would be Ivaar, gloating, as his brother was forcibly removed from the hall, humiliated before everyone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tarak striding towards their little huddle. Was he merely keen for a closer look, or about to add to the trouble? He moved to stand just behind Ivaar, raising a challenging eyebrow in her direction.
‘Ahhh well, it’s no secret that Eadmund prefers his women younger and blonder,’ Jael smiled sarcastically and turned to Ivaar. ‘I suppose that’s why you’re here.’
Thorgils’ face froze in surprise. He stared at Jael, demanding her attention, but she wouldn’t look at him. What was she playing at?
Eadmund’s face froze in shock. Her eyes peered so fiercely into his that his reply tripped over the tip of his tongue and didn’t come out of his mouth. What was she playing at?
‘But as to why I’m still here?’ She looked at Ivaar as she spoke, pointedly ignoring Eadmund. ‘I can assure you, it has nothing to do with my husband.’ She shot Eadmund a look that was thick with scorn. ‘It is for the weather that I stay. For the cold, and the snow, and the wind of course!’ she smiled, sensing some of the curious faces around her relax. There were a few chuckles, a handful of grins; even Eirik looked slightly more at ease. ‘And though I am no beauty myself,’ she bowed her head slightly. ‘Nor am I small and blonde,’ she aimed another sharp look at Eadmund. ‘I hope that the people of Oss will, in time, be glad of my presence, even if my husband is not. Although... after the contest, I’m sure there will be many of you wishing I’d left for Brekka before the Freeze!’ She played up to the crowded hall, grinning cheerfully, and was rewarded with a smattering of cheers.
Jael let her eyes rest on Tarak for as long as she could stomach it, then walked away, barely noticing the amused faces turned in her direction. She headed straight for the high table and sat down next to Isaura who looked too shocked to move. The eyes of the hall followed her, watched her sitting, relaxed, drinking from her cup, and their attention wandered back to Eadmund and Ivaar, and what would happen next.
‘Go away,’ Gisila murmured, not even wanting to look up. ‘Pretend you didn’t find me.’
‘You know he’s looking for you, then?’ Gant wondered gently as he stepped into the cottage. He found her huddled by the barely there fire, staring into the feeble flames, a thin blanket draped over her shoulders.
‘He always is,’ she sighed heavily. ‘I thought at least I could avoid his attentions until the wedding, but he won’t leave me alone. Not ever.’
‘So I’ve noticed.’ Gant looked around the small room. ‘Where’s Axl? Gunni?’
‘Gunni’s gone somewhere, visiting her sister or something. Axl, I don’t know about. Perhaps he’s with a girl? He’s never here anymore.’
Gant rolled his eyes at that, but Gisila didn’t notice. He doubted Axl was staying away for a girl. ‘You can’t refuse him, you know.’ He crouched down and took her hand. ‘Gisila, look at me. You can’t say no to Lothar. It will only mean bad things for all of you.’
She looked up then, and he saw that her beautiful eyes were swollen, tired, and bereft of any hope. ‘I’ve been sitting here, remembering so many things today. When there’s no noise, no one talking to you, your mind can truly get lost.’ She stared into the flames again. ‘I was queen here, for over 30 years. That is no small amount of time, is it? For more than half of my life, I was queen here. And now look at me, Gant. Look at my family. It’s broken into unhappy pieces, and I don’t know what to do. Without Ranuf, and without Jael, and now my mother...’ She looked up at him, desperately. ‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘You’re about to be queen again,’ Gant said quietly as he grabbed a stool and came to sit beside her. ‘Don’t forget that. I’m sure you never thought that would happen, that your fortunes would turn again.’
‘Not in this way, I didn’t,’ she spat harshly. ‘Not like this. I never wanted this.’
‘That may be the truth, but it will help all of you get out of here,’ he insisted, motioning around the dark and dingy room. ‘And who knows wha
t else it will be useful for.’
‘Of course,’ she sighed, staring into his concerned eyes. ‘Of course, it all makes sense as you say. And I shall have fine dresses and eat well again. And once I thought that truly mattered,’ she sighed, looking away. ‘But now... now I’d rather have this hovel and these rags, and be free of that disgusting man and his hideous son.’
Gant thought on that. He knew it was his job to convince her to come with him, but at the same time, the last thing he wanted to do was take her there, to that slug, so that he could drool all over her again. She deserved so much better than that, especially after what she had been through. ‘Perhaps we can wait here a little while before we have to go?’ He looked at her kindly. ‘Lothar doesn’t need to know.’
Eadmund wasn’t sure what would happen next. He was so confused about what Jael had just said and done; she had somehow extinguished all of his ire. His head felt as though it was swimming backwards, searching for a way to turn around and move forwards again. He wasn’t sure what to do. He was surrounded, about to be pounced upon, but who was to be his captor? Tarak was glowering at him from behind Ivaar, and his father was quietly simmering on his right. He knew Thorgils and Torstan were behind him, and of course, Ivaar was right in front of him, looking just as surprised as he felt. And as for Jael... she was sitting next to Isaura, drinking as calmly as anything, after all of that. What was that?
Isaura. His face lightened suddenly as his eyes met hers. She looked at him with such gentle pity that he faltered, feeling the years since they had last seen each other tumble away. Seven years since they had cried on each other’s shoulders. He had just lost Melaena, and she was about to lose Thorgils; they were both bereft. She had been a true friend throughout his childhood, cared for him like a brother. He didn’t want her to see him this way, in this pathetic state. He tried to blink some sense into himself, to salvage something from the mess that he had made.
‘So, where are all your children then, Ivaar? Where are my nieces and nephews?’ Eadmund asked through gritted teeth. He was still unsteady, in both mind and body, but he wanted the hall to relax away from him so that he could find another drink, and a chance to speak to Isaura. All eyes were still turned on their conversation, waiting for the fight he had suddenly lost all heart for.
Ivaar frowned, puzzled and disappointed by this sudden change in his brother’s mood. ‘My children?’ He looked around the hall distractedly. ‘They are resting with their servants, I suppose. It was a long day for them. They are very young.’
‘Well, perhaps I shall meet them tomorrow, but in the meantime, I shall go and welcome back their mother.’ He stared at Ivaar but made no further threat, brushing past him and walking towards the high table as quickly as possible.
Eirik caught Thorgils’ eye, suggesting he follow Eadmund, but that was the last thing Thorgils wanted; Eadmund was heading for Isaura.
‘It’s alright,’ Torstan whispered, ‘I’ll go.’ And he followed Eadmund towards the other end of the hall.
‘I suppose it could have been worse,’ Ivaar laughed as his father approached. ‘I had thought he might come in with his sword drawn!’
Eirik did not feel as light-hearted as Ivaar was attempting to be. He was uncomfortable, for more reasons than he could count. Eadmund was rotten drunk again, Jael seemed to hate both him and Eadmund, Eydis still wasn’t talking to him, and Ivaar was acting as though the kingdom had already been promised to him. Eirik supposed he had given him that impression when he’d sent his note, asking him to come back, but still, Ivaar’s confidence rankled. Eirik watched sadly as Eadmund hugged Isaura. It had all been going so well; how had they ended up back here again?
‘You look surprised,’ Eadmund mumbled, barely meeting Isaura’s eyes as he released her from his arms. ‘Is it because I didn’t kill Ivaar? Or is that I’m as fat as a pig ready for slaughter?’
Isaura laughed. ‘Both!’ she smiled, relaxing at the appearance of the twinkle in his eye that she remembered so well. It was still there; he was still in there, somewhere. ‘But yes, you are very fat Eadmund. What have you been doing to yourself?’
‘Thank you very much, my dear Isaura. How I have missed your honesty!’ he laughed, looking around for something to drink. He was getting far too sober now; his wife had a way of doing that to him, it seemed. She sat there, so close to him, but did not even look his way; all her attention was now on Eydis. Eadmund lost himself, watching her, remembering her words, puzzled by them. He blinked again. He needed that drink.
‘Do you really think more ale will help?’ Isaura wondered, reading his mind.
‘Help?’ He shook his head. ‘No, but I will feel better for a while, and that is enough for right now.’ He stopped a passing mead girl and grabbed a freshly poured cup from her.
‘But a while will not last long, and then you will feel nothing but regret. Regret, and a pounding head,’ she scolded lightly.
‘Are you speaking from experience?’ he asked with a crooked grin. ‘Is that how you survive my brother? Ale or mead? I don’t know what they drink on Kalfa. Fermented sheep’s milk?’
Isaura laughed, distracted. ‘No, not for me. I have my children to help me survive, that’s all I need.’ She smiled tightly, watching Ivaar, who was still talking to Eirik, not looking at her at all. She felt momentarily free, but still, she kept her voice hushed as she leaned in closer. ‘How is Thorgils? Is he married?’
Eadmund saw the despair and longing in her eyes. He knew how she felt, how tortured and lonely she would have been without Thorgils all these years. He looked around, checking for Ivaar but saw only Torstan, who seemed to have been sent to watch him. He frowned in his friend’s direction, then turned back to Isaura. ‘No, he’s never married. His heart has never mended. He was not looking forward to you to coming back.’
Isaura looked devastated. ‘Oh.’
‘No, no, I didn’t mean it like that!’ Eadmund said, scrambling about inside his muddled head, trying to find the right words. ‘I mean that he didn’t know how he would be able to see you, with Ivaar. I imagine he thinks you may have forgotten him, or even fallen in love with your husband.’
Isaura snorted so loudly that even Ivaar turned in her direction. She looked embarrassed and said nothing for a moment, waiting for Ivaar to resume his conversation. ‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘Never. Never that, not with him. Never.’
She looked terrified, Eadmund thought, and that sobered him quickly. The years had been hard on her, he realised. Her cheeks, which he remembered plump with dimples, were dull and pale. They matched her eyes, which looked empty. She had always been the happiest person he knew, but she didn’t look as though she had smiled much in years.
Isaura grabbed his arm to let him know that Ivaar and Eirik were walking towards them. ‘Tell Thorgils I have not forgotten him,’ she whispered quickly, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes, lest Ivaar see.
‘I will,’ Eadmund promised as he moved quickly to avoid having to sit next to either arrival. The only seat left was next to Jael. He coughed, stumbling down onto the bench, trying to avoid touching her. It felt odd. He desperately wanted to catch her eye, to know what she was thinking, but at the same time he was afraid of what he would find, so he kept his eyes down, focused on the plate full of food he had no appetite for.
Jael made a point of not looking at Eadmund. She could feel him there, his shoulder almost touching hers. She wanted to move, just enough to brush against him, to let him know in some small way that they were still friends. She shook her head; is that what they were... friends? She tried to ignore her confused feelings, which were busy tangling themselves into a knot, keeping her face towards Eydis. But as she glanced up she caught Ivaar staring at her. He smiled, his eyes locking with hers. She smiled back, believing it was the best path to take. Surely it would be useful for all of them if she made friends with Ivaar?
Thorgils walked past at that very moment, catching the friendly exchange between Ivaar and Jael. He sto
rmed past and quickly took his seat. He was going to have to have a very serious conversation with Jael tomorrow.
Jael stroked Vella’s soft, thick fur. After the tension and noise of the hall, it was soothing to listen to the occasional crack from the fire and run her hands through that shaggy mane. Vella seemed to like it too, as she lay there, contentedly flopped over Jael’s knee.
‘I hope Eadmund will be alright,’ Biddy said with a frown. ‘At least you managed to calm him down in time.’
‘I suppose I did,’ Jael muttered distractedly. ‘But I’m not sure what he will think about any of it. He was a complete mess, though, so he probably won’t remember it tomorrow.’
‘Well, that’s a shame for him,’ Biddy sighed. ‘He seemed to have made a change, didn’t he? For a while there.’ She sipped on her milk, enjoying the house, as the quiet of the evening settled in around them.
‘But as you said, perhaps some people are just born that way. Maybe Eadmund will never be able to escape it, like your father. Maybe it will kill him too? It certainly could have tonight, the way he came into the hall ready to murder Ivaar.’
‘But if Eadmund keeps drinking, if he gets worse, then this Ivaar will certainly become king, won’t he? And Eydis sees bad things for that. So, we have to help Eadmund stop drinking.’ Biddy put her cup down and stood up, disappearing into the kitchen.
‘I’m not sure that’s possible,’ Jael said solemnly. ‘There’s always going to be ale, or mead, or wine about, wherever Eadmund goes. What chance has he got of controlling himself with all that temptation?’
‘Well, there may be one way,’ Biddy sighed triumphantly as she came back to her stool. ‘There is this.’ She held a little, brown bottle out towards Jael. ‘Edela gave me this tincture to help Eadmund, when you thought it was time.’
‘Really?’ Jael leaned forward and took the bottle. ‘What does it do?’
