by Lily Byrne
“I’ve never been called effeminate or cowardly before. And I’ve never walked away from a fight.”
He advanced on the men, who retreated, but a few more jogged over, sensing blood spillage. After the recent rain shower, the early autumn sun had returned and beat down strongly. The workers had been drinking ale since morning to keep thirst at bay, and tempers were up.
“You can’t work in the fields. No one wants you here,” said the first man.
“But if I can’t work, I won’t get a share of the crops to feed my family. They’d starve.”
“Your family? Your lover, you mean,” they sniggered, “who takes it up the arse like a woman.”
“His name is Lini. Remember him, the skilled craftsman, the one who’s made everyone’s drinking vessels, jewellery and windows for the last few years?”
They still sniggered, ignoring the expert status of the glass worker, the only one in the area.
“You’re both still ergi. We all want you out of here.”
They each grabbed one of Kjartan’s arms as he struggled and thrashed around, trying to cut at them with the sickle he still held. Two Huskarls stood in the background, not attempting to step in. Kjartan glared at them, remembering when he was a full member of their company. Once, they’d have protected him, but he’d done too many wrongs to keep their loyalty.
The farmhands brought him down with a struggle.
“You’re less than a warrior now. We should cut your hair,” sneered one, prizing the sickle out of Kjartan’s hand and moving it towards his long, blond plait.
“Oi! What the hell’s going on?” roared a voice.
The auburn-haired figure of Ragnar strode through the crowd which hastily parted.
“Get back to your work!” he ordered the onlookers. “Especially you two!” The Huskarls guiltily shuffled away.
“Why are you doing this when there’s work to be done?” He glared at the two farmhands, his slightly Oriental appearance adding to his forbidding expression.
“He’s - he’s ergi - he’s -” they stammered.
“So? Who cares? Last year, this man saved my life and the lives of countless women stolen by the wolf cult. Have you forgotten so soon?”
The men looked at the ground, complaining under their breath now.
“Quiet while I’m talking! You should know we need all able-bodied men to help get the harvest in or we’ll all starve. Stop being so selfish!”
They backed away, muttering darkly to themselves, leaving Kjartan on the ground among the dry stubble.
“You’ve chosen a difficult path this time, brother,” said Ragnar, looking down at him. “These Danes won’t like you for it.”
Kjartan scrambled up, brushing wheat stalks off himself.
“What d’you mean, ‘these Danes’? Aren’t you one of them?”
Ragnar considered. He’d always thought of himself as the outsider looking in on Danish society. Many of their rules were inconsistent and he could see better ways of doing things.
“Partly,” he said at last. “Just be careful. There’s plenty of fools like them around.”
“It’s Lini I’m more worried about.”
“Well, take care of him, too. And Mildrith.”
Ragnar nodded at him, and strode back to supervise the others.
Kjartan picked up the sickle and carried on with his solitary reaping.
*
“It’s all getting so difficult,” complained Ragnar to Aelfwyn as they got ready for bed that night. “Everyone’s threatening Kjartan and causing trouble.”
“Hasn’t that always been the way, though? He’s just that sort of man.”
“Hm. Why can’t he just live a quiet life like the rest of us?”
“You know what he’s like. He always has to be different. He’ll get over it, perhaps.”
“Perhaps.”
“It’ll get better when Bjarni comes home and takes over, won’t it?”
“Yeah, the Huskarls will calm down again and get back to normal, I hope.”
“And it’s nice Kjartan’s happy with Lini, isn’t it? He’s so calm and law-abiding. Everyone deserves to be happy, don’t they?”
“They do.”
“We’re really happy, aren’t we? I’m a good wife to you.”
“You fishing for compliments, woman?”
She giggled.
“You’re my favourite wife. Is that better?”
“Not really. I’m your only wife, I hope.”
“Damn. You saw through me.” He laughed and pulled her towards him, cuddling up in bed together cosily.
“I don’t want to be in a relationship with you and someone else,” she giggled. “I want you all to myself.”
“Good. Me too.” He pulled the bed covers over their heads and she continued laughing.
*
At Huskarl training, the insults continued.
“Why should we listen to you, ergi?” asked Styrkar, among sniggers from his accomplices as they stared at Kjartan.
“That word is illegal. Don’t use it!” snapped Ragnar. “Get your swords. We’re doing moving target practice.”
Half the men threw pieces of bark and wood at the others, who tried to hit them with their swords.
While they were practising, Ragnar took Kjartan aside.
“I don’t know if you’ll be able to keep helping out. Sorry, but opinion’s against you and the villagers are appealing to Steinar about it. It’s bloody stupid in my opinion but -” He shrugged.
Kjartan frowned. “So, they want to get rid of an experienced warrior like me because I lie with a man?” Suddenly, aware they were being watched, Kjartan turned to the onlookers. “Yes! That’s right! I lie with a man! You all know that! What have you got to say about it?” He stepped towards them aggressively while Ragnar watched.
In unison the novices took one pace back, eyes wide.
“I’ll kill any one of you who disrespects me, with my bare hands if I have to!”
Ragnar suppressed a smile.
“Who’s going to say something? Cat got your tongues?”
“You aren’t good enough to teach us,” said Styrkar quietly.
“So who is, then? Who’s perfect here? Who’s got unblemished honour?”
They all exchanged glances.
“Because I haven’t. Do you know how many men I’ve killed? I know how to do it and I’d kill any of you for any reason, so you’d better watch out if you make me angry!”
The freezing blue, furious eyes and ghostly blond hair made him appear like some vengeful demon, and the youths quaked.
“Right,” said Ragnar hastily, “back to practice and quickly to it.”
They did so, avoiding Kjartan’s eyes and skirting round him in case he decided to carry out his death threat.
*
“I think we should discuss our menfolk,” said Mildrith at the entrance of Halldora’s home. Dalla wriggled in her arms and she found it hard to hold the baby who began to cry.
“She’s hungry,” said Halldora, hesitating as she folded clothes. “Oh, come in and feed her.”
Mildrith sat in the offered chair to nurse her daughter, Kori and Thora watching and Ndulu chopping vegetables, the sharp scent of onion making her dab her eyes with her sleeve.
“So, will you let Lini see his children?”
“Why? He’s made a fool of me. People laugh and stare all the time now. Why should I spoil him?”
“They’re still his children, and they need to see him.” She met Halldora’s eyes.
“How do you keep so calm about it? Two men – er - loving each other?” Remembering the children, the stout woman kept her language mild, but screwed up her nose.
“They’re my family. We all get on together. I had no one after Herewulf died. Then Kjartan saved me, Dalla came along, and now Lini.”
“What does your family think?”
“My family, hm … My parents died when I was young, so I was brought up by my aunt and cousins. S
he didn’t want an extra mouth to feed, so she never loved me. I was happy when I married Herewulf, but look what happened to him.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have a normal life, with a husband and children, not a husband and his lover?”
“Lini’s really nice, though. I’m surprised you don’t love him anymore.”
Kori’s lip trembled. “Where Daddy?” he demanded.
“Now look what you’ve done!” snapped Halldora. She turned to her son. “Daddy’s not coming back. He’s gone.”
Kori wailed, then Thora copied him.
“Can’t you let him see them? They need him.” Mildrith raised her voice over the cries. Fortunately, Dalla sucked contentedly at her breast, dozing off.
“Why? He’s humiliated me!”
“But they need him. He needs them. Things happen in life, and you have to work around them. I should know!”
“I’ll think about it.” Halldora pursed her lips. “You should go and let me get on with my work. You must have double the work with two men living with you.”
Mildrith smiled. “It’s not so bad. Lini is at the forge mostly, and Kjartan is working in the fields or with the Huskarls. They only come back at night time and sometimes not even then.”
“Hm. Well. I’ll think about what you said.” Halldora glanced towards the door and Mildrith took the hint, carrying Dalla out, still latched to her breast. The crying of Kori and Thora broke her heart.
A man bumped into her at the gate. He was broad with a round, smiling face.
“Sorry,” he said. “Don’t listen to Halldora. She likes upsetting people.”
“What? How did you know -?”
“I’m her brother, Finn. I know she’s upset with Lini, but she shouldn’t take it out on others.”
“I’m Lini’s lover’s wife, though, so I suppose it’s partly my fault.”
“Ah, I see. Complicated.” He nodded to her and went to knock on his sister’s door.
Mildrith turned to see what happened, and Finn smiled at her before he was dragged inside. She could hear Halldora shouting even from here, no doubt angry about the cheek of Kjartan’s wife begging her to forgive Lini.
So she sighed and walked away.
*
Even though Ragnar stepped in at the harvesting and Kjartan scared the trainee Huskarls half to death, he and Lini weren’t always so lucky. The sneering and taunting continued. Every day, there was an ‘accidental’ push or trip, a knock from timbers carried by a passing carter or a blow from a stone which no one admitted to throwing.
Mildrith spent half her time bathing their wounds and even Ifay came round to help.
“It is not right,” said Ifay. “Such a fuss about something so little.”
“Something so little? Trying to insult me?” teased Kjartan as she bandaged his hand, which had unfortunately been bruised by dropped firewood.
“Oh, you are naughty. I meant so little as two men in love. In my country no one would take the slightest notice.”
“Danes aren’t like that,” said Lini as Mildrith dabbed at a cut on his shoulder caused by someone turning unexpectedly with a spear. “They think we’re disrupting the village.”
“They were like that when Bjarni and I got married,” said Ifay. “They still see me as a slave, not worthy to be the wife of a Huskarl warrior. What do I care?”
“Oh, I don’t care what they think,” said Kjartan. “I just wish they’d stop injuring us.”
“I am sure it will pass by and they will find someone else to torment. You should feel lucky they have not done worse to you.”
*
Late one afternoon there was a knock on the door, and when Mildrith answered, Gudfrid, Lini’s mother, stood outside.
“Are you Mildrith?” she asked.
“Yes. Do come in. Lini will be back soon. Would you like ale?”
“No, thank you.” She hovered uncertainly.
When Lini returned, his eyes widened when he saw his mother.
“Why are you living here and not with your wife?” she asked immediately.
“She threw me out. I’m not going back.”
“What about your children?”
“I’ll see them when I can.”
“Did you know Halldora has been seeing another man?”
Lini shrugged. “We’re equal then.”
“How can you say that? You are married to her. You should be living with her and having more children.”
“I can’t live with her if she doesn’t let me. I’m staying here.”
His mother gasped. “I can’t associate with you then. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
Lini shrugged. “Why don’t you go then, if I’m such a disappointment as a son.” He went off to the other side of the house.
“And where do you fit into all this?” asked Gudfrid of Mildrith.
“I’m Kjartan’s wife, and mother of his child. I’m Lini’s friend.” She smiled.
“Don’t you want a man of your own?”
“I have two. I have my own family at last.”
Giving her a bemused look, Gudfrid left.
“My mother drives me mad,” said Lini, sitting down by the fire with Mildrith and Dalla.
She gave him a quizzical look.
“She asked where I fitted in with you two.”
“We both love you, so don’t worry.”
They sat there for a while, drinking ale.
“Where’s Kjartan? They’re only doing the threshing and ploughing now. He should be back,” said Lini.
“I’m sure he’s alright. He’s rough enough to deal with fights.”
“Very rough.”
“Yes, rough love,” Mildrith giggled, realising how much ale she’d drunk.
“But sometimes, we like it rough, yes?” Lini laughed, then sighed. “I wish my mother hadn’t talked about my children. I miss them and I won’t have any more.” His happy expression had gone.
“You could have another child. I could have your baby next time.”
They gazed at each other for a long minute, then Kjartan burst through the door, talking about the latest insults he’d suffered.
“They think it’s so funny to spill things in my hair,” he complained. “You two look sad. What’s the matter?”
Lini explained, leaving out the conversation he’d just had with Mildrith.
“Parents. Mine disowned me years ago,” Kjartan said. “Probably better off without them.”
“We’re all orphans, then,” mused Lini.
“We should stick together,” Mildrith added.
They all smiled at each other.
*
“It’s this I’m more worried about. Not being constantly beaten up,” said Kjartan as he and Lini sat back to back at the training ground waiting for the boys to turn up. “The numbers are dwindling every day, I’m getting less and less money, so -”
“Here’s someone,” interrupted Lini. An English boy and his father approached, so they both stood up.
“Are we the only ones today?” asked the father, looking round as if the others were hiding.
“It seems that way.”
“I’ve heard the rumours, so I think I know why people aren’t coming.” He nodded politely, unlike the sneering Danes.
Kjartan shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. I’m sorry about the lack of students. But I’m not apologising for anything else.”
“Of course. Well, you’ll understand if we don’t stay. There isn’t much point my son staying and getting no training.”
They hurried away.
“Looks like this is it, then,” said Kjartan.
Lini was gazing into the distance. “They’re a bit different to us, aren’t they, the English?”
“Yes. So anyway, we’d better go home now. We’ll give it one more try tomorrow but if no one comes then, I’ll have to close this down. So much for my good idea.”
“It’ll get better.” Lini pulled his hair affectionately.
*<
br />
When they got home, Mildrith met them with a beaming smile.
“My cousin is betrothed. We’re all invited to the feast at my aunt’s house. It’s tomorrow!”
“Can we leave our house unattended for one night?” asked Kjartan suspiciously.
She ignored him and beamed, her cheeks flushed.
“No feasts for weeks then two at once!” The End of Harvest blot, called Mabon, was in a couple of days.
“I mean, we’re not very popular at the moment. They might do something to the house.”
“Let’s take a chance. Oh, come on! I want to see everyone.” Mildrith clasped her hands, making Lini smile.
“Do we have to?” Kjartan continued. “I thought you didn’t like your aunt and cousins much. And they never liked me.”
“It’s a party, though. And life’s been so boring lately.”
“But our Harvest blot won’t be boring.”
“Yes, it’ll be great with everyone insulting us,” interrupted Lini.
“Can’t we go? Please?” Mildrith gazed up at her husband, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Won’t your family think it’s odd, me coming too?” asked Lini. “Don’t think I can stand another lot of people sneering at me.”
“You’ll be my guest,” said Mildrith. “And they aren’t as intolerant as the Danes, so they won’t insult you.”
“Very well,” sighed Kjartan. “We’ll hope the house is still standing when we get back.”
*
“Come in,” said Mildrith’s aunt Ymma, a buxom lady. “You, your husband and - er -” Standing at the door to the feasting hall, she eyed the amber smith with interest.
“This is Lini who’s staying with us for a while,” explained Mildrith hastily.
“Ah yes, I heard something about that. Welcome.” She inclined her head to him. “Of course this isn’t my home, it’s our ceorl’s. He’s kindly let us use it tonight.”
The hall was smaller than the Danish one, but the walls were richly decorated with embroidered hangings and a fire crackled in the middle of the floor. English guests bustled about, wearing their best clothes, kept for such special occasions.
The trio from Hallby sat down together at a table. Usually women served, but as Mildrith had the tiny sleeping baby Dalla strapped to her, she was excused.
“Aunt Ymma seemed quite pleased to see me, and that’s not like her,” she said thoughtfully to her companions.
