Vikings: Deception (The Great Heathen Army series Book 2)

by Ceri Bladen

  When the lad noticed Ubba, he quickly made his way over. “Lord, I have a missive for you.”

  Ubba’s chest swelled - it was clearly from Rosfrith. He could finally stop worrying. He watched the lad step forward, an anxious look on his face.

  “I will need to whisper this into your ear, Lord. Am I permitted?”

  He nodded and watched the lad bend over, his hand on his knees and his breathing laboured – he had rushed to get here. Ubba’s eyebrows knitted together, an uneasy feeling coming over him. Once the lad had caught his breath, Ubba bent to his level. He placed a hand on his axe, not completely trusting that the little boy wouldn’t pull a knife on him while in the bowed position.

  When the boy finished his message, Ubba stood. His chest clenched and the room spun. His eyes narrowed frostily onto the lad. “When did you receive this?” He demanded.

  “I came as fast as I could,” the lad replied in between breaths.

  “When?” Ubba noticed the youth pale, but he couldn’t care less about his discomfort.

  “About two full moons ago. We have been travelling. The seas were rough. Ægir the sea jötunn wasn’t happy with us for some reason.”

  Ubba closed his eyes briefly, trying to control the fierce emotion within him. Without a word, he flicked a coin at the lad. He made his way to his bed-closet, needing to get away, otherwise, he might kill someone.

  Asmund, Eirik, and Gunnar’s gazes followed Ubba as he retreated to the back of the longhouse. They’d been watching the altercation with the messenger with interest.

  Gunnar turned away and shrugged. It wasn’t to do with them, otherwise, Ubba would be over, discussing it.

  “Will you go and see what is wrong?” asked Asmund.

  Gunnar’s eyes narrowed on Asmund before he glanced towards Ubba’s chamber. “He would have talked to us if there was a problem. I’ll wait.” Since Ubba had slighted his sister, they had never regained their previous relationship. “Besides, he didn’t look in the mood to talk.” He swung his gaze back towards the lad, who was inspecting his gold coin with care. He motioned him forward. “What was the missive?”

  The youth shrugged. “I canny say. If I do, I lose this coin.”

  Gunnar let out a short breath.

  When the boy noticed everyone’s gaze on him, he shook his head and stepped away. They were huge and reminded him of a wolf pack. He pushed his chin out. “I wasn’t to give the message to anyone other than Ubba Ragnarsson.” He turned on his heels and ran out before anyone had the time to force it out of him.

  Gunnar waved his hand. “Looks like we will have to wait.”

  Eirik went back to his ale, but he felt uneasy. He was sure the lad had been on his ship to East Angles. Whatever that missive was, by the look on Ubba’s face, Eirik had an inkling it was about Rosfrith.

  Lying in his bed, Ubba listened to the cockerels crowing their alarm from the rooftops. He lifted his hand to rub his tired eyes. He hadn’t slept for days, trying to work out what he was going to do. A grey light seeped through the cracks - the dawn of another lonely day. His cold nose indicated winter was on its way. And he wouldn’t have Rosfrith to keep him warm. His heart painfully constricted, and knowing he couldn’t do anything about it, he forced the skins off and sat. He had things to do. He was chieftain. He had no choice.

  Eirik’s knife paused halfway to his mouth. He noticed that, once again, Ubba had refused dagmal and not broken his fast. He just made his way past the people gathered eating around the fire, to the doors. Eirik nudged Gunnar.

  “It’s your turn to be by Ubba’s side, today. You might be able to pry out what is wrong, but may the luck of the gods be with you. Yesterday, he was in a sour temper, all day.”

  Gunnar grunted as he stood, throwing down his bowl of half eaten stew.

  “I suppose I had better do my duty,” he said, his lip curling. Stooping down, he grabbed his weapons, and then made his way into the daylight. When he got to the door, he scanned around in an attempt to find his sire. He spotted Ubba, nearly out of the village. He would have to hurry to catch up with him.

  When he finally caught him, Gunnar grabbed Ubba’s arm in an attempt to slow him. “What’s eating you?” He quickly let go when he was rewarded with an icy glare.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Ubba hissed through his teeth. He didn’t trust himself to maintain his control over his emotions. Anger was the easiest to restrain - if no one got in his way. “And I don’t need you by my side, today.”

  Gunnar glared at Ubba for a while before tearing his gaze away. “I’d like to say, suit yourself.” He looked back, drawing himself up and puffing out his chest. “But, as my sister is near to birthing your barn…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence.

  Ubba gave him a look that would have most men quaking.

  “Fine.” He turned on his heels, not caring if Gunnar followed him or not.

  #

  Ubba pulled his fur around him and stared at the roaring fire, alone in his thoughts. He wasn’t completely drunk on ale, even though he’d consumed plenty, but he wanted to be. He wanted to drink himself into oblivion.

  From the other side of the fire, Eirik watched Ubba. When he noticed dark circles under his eyes and a slump in his shoulders, he knew it was time to find out what was wrong. He tapped Asmund and nodded towards Ubba.

  “Wish me luck.”

  “You’ll need it. He’s been ready to kill someone for over a week.”

  “Let’s hope it’s not me, then.” Eirik laughed before making his way towards Ubba.

  “We’ll see,” murmured Asmund as his friend walked away.

  “Can I take this seat?” asked Eirik, sitting in the empty seat next to Ubba.

  Ubba’s glazed eyes glanced over at Eirik and then narrowed. He knew his friend wanted to talk, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything, anymore.

  “Have you had any news from Rosfrith?” Eirik said and then wished he hadn’t been so blatant. When he noticed Ubba’s fist clench, he thought better of continuing. Those hands had fought so many times, and killed so many men in battle - and whether Ubba was drunk or not - he’d be a fool to be on the receiving end of them.

  Ubba ignored his question. The pain he felt inside prevented him from speaking. Instead, he raised his mug to a passing thrall. “More ale.” He grunted an appreciation when she filled it, sloshing some over the sides.

  “You don’t normally consume so much ale,” Eirik said, and then regretted it when he was on the receiving end of another icy glare.

  Not taking his eyes off Eirik, Ubba picked up his mug, drank all the ale, and slammed it back on the table. Using the back of his arm, he wiped his beard. He stood, a little unsteady, sending the chair flying backwards. Using the table for support, he glanced around. Some of the village folk nudged each other, sneaking glances at him. It was either in gossip, or a need to keep an eye on him, he was their chieftain, after all.

  “Thor’s teeth, can’t I get peace? I’m going to bed.”

  Eirik watched his sire stagger off. He made his way back to Gunnar and Asmund, who’d been observing the whole altercation.

  “Oh well, that went well.”

  Walking through the crowded longhouse, Ubba’s glazed eyes didn’t take much in. As he reached out for his bed-closet door, he paused. He couldn’t retire there. Astrid was using it until she had their child. He turned away and made his way towards a quiet corner. Lying down on the hard bench, he closed his eyes. The room spun before an image of Rosfrith appeared. He swore aloud and his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. Even intoxicated he could feel the pain. The pain of learning that his sweet, dear Rosfrith was dead.

  Chapter 9

  November 872 - Ranaricii

  Hilde took a breath and walked into Ubba’s bedchamber, Astrid’s breakfast of yesterday’s left-over stew in her hands. She nodded at Astrid, who was lying in bed as she had for a couple of weeks, now. “Góðan morgun. I have your dagmal here to strengthen y
ou up.” She showed Astrid the leftover stew, bread, and fruit.

  “Is it a good morning?” Astrid said, trying to get herself seated.

  “Ay, it is, m’lady. We are all alive, and we are awaiting your barn to arrive.” She ignored the scowl on Astrid’s face and turned to pour some buttermilk into a mug. It still pained her that it was Astrid, not Rosfrith, in her sire’s bed. But, with the devastating news that Rosfrith had gone from this world, she just had to get on with it. Until the barn was born - and while Astrid was in her chieftain’s chamber - she was her mistress. She turned back around and noticed a grimace on Astrid’s face. “Are you all right, m’lady?”

  Rubbing her belly, Astrid looked up and glared at Hilde. “Do I look all right?”

  Biting back her retort, Hilde nodded, then walked over to pass Astrid her food and drink.

  When Astrid reached out, another pain shot through the side of her belly. She took her hand away and grabbed her stomach instead.

  “Mayhap the barn is on its way?”

  Panic grew on Astrid’s face. She didn’t want it to come yet, for when it was in her stomach, Ubba looked after her, making sure she was alright. She had a feeling once it was out, his attention would be on the barn, not her. She silently damned Rosfrith. Even though she was not a physical threat anymore, or so Ubba thought, she still held tightly onto Ubba’s heart. She’d failed to break their connection.

  “We have much to do, m’lady, to prepare.” Hilde smiled, the thought of new life putting a spring in her stride. She leaned over to undo Astrid’s hair. A frown creased her forehead when Astrid batted her hand away. “But, m’lady, you must let your hair flow. It will help unlock the birth passage and encourage a speedy and easy birth.” Hilde glanced around the room. “The doors, too, and all other knots in this room.” She made a mental note of what she and the other servants would have to do to help Astrid with her birth. Astrid’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Where’s Ubba?” Her face screwed up as another contraction made its way through her body.

  “I’m unsure, but we will find him, he won’t be far. I’ll go and get help.” She stopped when Astrid grabbed her hand, noticing perspiration on her mistress’s top lip.

  Astrid waited for the pain to subside before speaking. “Before you leave me, we need to pray and make an offering to Frigg, Freyja, and the Disir.” She waved towards a trunk. “The offerings are in there. Please bring me the silver keys, too.”

  Hilde nodded and made her way to the trunk. While she retrieved the items, she carried on talking in an attempt to distract Astrid.

  “I’ll get some freyar gras to put on the bed for you.” She stopped a moment, recalling her own births. “Not that you will lie there, but if you have Freyja’s weed on the bed, you can call on Frigg, Freyja, and the Disir for support.” Again, she ignored Astrid’s growl. When she returned to the bedside, she placed the necklace, which was strung with the silver keys, and said a pray before going to find both Ubba and help.

  Sweat beaded on Astrid’s brow as another pain ripped through her belly. Her body felt like it was being torn in two. Clumsily, she stood and grabbed a beam, leaning against it. “When will this misery end?” she panted as another contraction started to build.

  Hilde looked around the bed-closet, worry creasing her forehead. “You must wait for the sire to get here, m’lady.” She ignored the snort Astrid gave. “He must be present for the birth.”

  “Ubba was supposed to be near, so he could come quickly. He should have been here long ago,” she hissed through her teeth.

  “I know,” muttered Hilde, for once, feeling sorry for Astrid, whose brow glistened with sweat. Traditionally, a month before the barn was to be born, neither mother nor father wandered far from the household. But, this wasn’t a traditional birth - Ubba was still in mourning for Rosfrith.

  Squatting, Astrid pushed again as another pain ripped through her. She wanted this thing out of her.

  Hilde indicated to one of the thralls standing within the room. “Come here, Turid.” She leaned over to whisper. “Find our sire. The barn will not be long, and if Ubba misses the birth, he will not be able to fulfil tradition.”

  Turid flicked her gaze over Astrid, whose face was screwed up with pain, before looking back at Hilde. She’d never seen anyone giving birth before, she didn’t know if she wanted to now. “I will. It would be a shame, after all that pain, for the baby to be a nonperson if his father doesn’t accept him.”

  Hilde nodded. “Now go, quick.” She watched Turid hurry out of the room and then turned her attention back to Astrid. She walked over and ran her hand up and down her back. “It won’t be long, and neither will Ubba.

  Astrid threw a glare at her. “Just get the birthing runes I made,” she said through gritted teeth, waving one of her hands. “I need help loosening this child from me.” She turned away. “At least I know what is supposed to be happening,” she muttered to herself.

  Catching what she said, Hilde rolled her eyes before turning to get the runes. Apart from delivering her own, she had been a helping woman, a bjargrýgr, at births many times, so she knew what went on, even though Astrid treated her as though she didn’t.

  “Sire! Sire!”

  Ubba turned away from the farmers he was talking to and saw a young slave running towards him. The concerned look on her face told him that his barn was on its way. He stood firm, letting his emotions run through him. He didn’t know how he felt. He’d felt numb since learning about Rosfrith’s death, and even new life didn’t seem to lift his spirits. He watched in silence as Turid tried to catch her breath.

  “Sire…” she breathed out as she grabbed her side. “Sire, you must come, quickly. The Lady is having the barn.”

  Ubba nodded at Turid and then turned to the men, a slow smile growing on his lips. He felt excitement flicker when they started to wish him luck, their enthusiasm catching. Now the babe was actually on its way, he didn’t feel so dead - this is what he might need to make his life worth living, again.

  Hilde waited for the first breath of life, and then a tiny scream erupted from the little barn. Quickly, she tied the white thread, which Astrid had prepared, around the baby’s cord. When she finished, she smiled and looked at Ubba.

  “You have a grand lad, sire.”

  Smiling with pride, Ubba got up from Astrid’s side and went to look at his son. He was glad the pain he’d seen Astrid in had ceased. He’d seen plenty of animals birth before, but nothing prepared him for what a mother went through. His respect for her grew.

  “Is he well?”

  Hilde nodded. “Ay, m’lord. Let me clean him, and m’lady, then you can hold him.” She turned towards Astrid, who was still on all-fours on the floor. “Lie on the bed, m’lady.” She nodded to Turid. “Tend to the mistress while I finish up with the lad.”

  While Turid and Ubba helped Astrid up, Hilde placed the baby down on the bed and washed him gently with warm water from a bucket. His tiny wails filled the air. He had a good pair of lungs on him. Carefully grabbing his flailing arm, she tied a red thread on its wrist, on which she had added an amber bead.

  “After I finish here, I will wash you, m’lady, while Ubba gets to know your son. I will call your brother in to bury the afterbirth by a large tree for you.” Law and tradition dictated that the father and witnesses were present at the birth, but as Astrid had screamed with distress when she saw the men in the room, every male, except Ubba, had left to stand outside. She glanced at Astrid when she failed to respond.

  Exhausted, all Astrid could do was nod. At this moment, she didn’t care the room was filling up with people and she was covered in fluids of birth. She just was glad the pain was over. She never wanted to experience childbirth again.

  While Hilde carefully washed the blood away, Astrid closed her eyes and dreamed of her reunion with Ubba. This plan of Brynhild’s had better work as she didn’t want to have gone through this pain for nothing.

  After the babe was swaddled
, Hilde motioned to Ubba to take him. “Here, m’lord. Meet your son.”

  Once Hilde had finished attending her and helped her sit up, Astrid looked over at Ubba. He was talking to Gunnar and others, the babe in his arms. She scowled. They were all congratulating him. What about her? It was she who had endured getting that thing out of her! It disgusted her. How would any man know what pain a woman goes through to produce an heir? She looked away from them. Not that she could think of the act now, but she wanted Ubba for the act of coupling, as she liked it, but she never wanted another child. She would have to make sure she visited the herb woman in the neighbouring village. Her eyes wandered towards Hilde, who had taken the babe off Ubba and was cooing over it. She quickly looked away when Hilde glanced at her. She swore under her breath when she realised Hilde was making her way over.

  “Lady Astrid. Here is your lad.” She smiled sweetly at him. “He is getting hungry and needs feeding.” She attempted to pass him over to his mother.

  The thought made Astrid recoil. She waved her hand for it to be taken away. “Get someone else to feed it.”

  “You can’t do that, m’lady,” said Hilde, shocked to the core by Astrid’s command. “You must tend to him yourself.” She glanced around, glad Ubba was otherwise engaged and unaware of her mistress’s request. “Come, let him suckle and you will form a bond.”

  Astrid crossed her arms and glanced away like a spoiled child.

  Panicking, Hilde’s gaze narrowed on her new mistress. Rosfrith would never do this. She loved Ubba too much. Out of the blue, an idea formed to make her feed her child. As much as Hilde didn’t want to acknowledge it, Astrid loved Ubba, and wouldn’t want to look bad in his eyes.

  “You must feed the heir to Ranaricii, m’lady.” To add some weight to her words, she added, “Ubba will expect nothing less.” She noticed the uncertainty flicker over Astrid’s face but said nothing when her arms loosened to accept the babe.