I shift Snorri to the floor, where Deirdre sits in silence on the bearskin rug.
“Thjodhild.” I gently move the white hair off her face. Her light eyes don't focus on me, and she groans.
She is closer to death than we thought. She must have been pushing herself just to walk around. I admire her strength, that of a true lady.
I lean in closer. “God is with you.”
She smiles slightly, then closes her eyes, quickly drifting into sleep. Every death pulls my own strength from me. It takes all my will to stand by when I know cures are impossible. Thjodhild will need someone to sit with her for days.
Deirdre observes me from her corner without a word, rocking Snorri in her lap. She knows I appreciate her watchcare of my children. In fact, it’s been her primary occupation since we’ve been at Brattahlid. There are plenty of slaves to take care of the kitchen work and the spinning.
Stena carries my box in, bringing with her a sense of peace. She, too, has believed in the Christian God, but not in a showy way, like Thjodhild and Leif.
I have talked with Stena of her nomadic upbringing and the noaidi, the Sami men and women who go into trances with their drums. Because the reindeer herders embrace the spiritual side of life, when Stena heard the story of Christ and his spirit sent to those who believe, she was quick to accept it. Sometimes I feel she is closer to God than I will ever be, with her instincts for comfort and kindness.
I take the key off my belt for the herb box, but the lock springs open without my turning it. As I open it, I'm not surprised to find several mushrooms are missing. Freydis won’t get away with this. I will tell Leif, before she heads off on her doomed trip. Ref also needs to know. Perhaps this news will wake him from his submissive stupor.
I find the dried meadowsweet, known to lessen pain. When Thjodhild wakes, we'll brew it into a honey tea.
The heaviness in my heart seems to spread throughout my body, and I drop into a chair. Snorri runs to me and climbs all over my lap, jabbing my stomach and legs with his little knees and elbows. I don’t mind, since I’ve missed the feel of him near me now that he’s stopped nursing.
“How’s my boy today?” I kiss his face repeatedly.
“Norri, norri?” he asks.
“Yes, how’s my baby Snorri?”
“Norri?” This time he points to the door.
I understand now. He asks for Snorri Thorbrandsson.
“No, my baby, he isn’t coming.” My eyes flood with tears and I grip his tiny hand. I stare at the door, as if the weight of my wishing would bring Snorri Thorbrandsson walking back into our lives.
My son seems to sense my sadness, and curls into a ball on my lap. The babe inside me kicks, as if enjoying the attention. Snorri's gold-touched curls shine beautifully against his red tunic. I vow to spend more time with all my children. With little Snorri, I’ve been too busy, unable to tend to him, except while nursing. And Finn has been gone for so much of his life. My son probably knew Snorri Thorbrandsson better than his own father.
Leif clunks on the door and charges in, obviously drunk. I quickly send Snorri back to Deirdre. Leif is the same as his father, drinking heavily when he’s frustrated. And now he is under pressure from his sister to provide more ships and resources, so she can hire the Icelanders for her trip. Perhaps I can convince him to stop her.
“My mother....” Leif lumbers to her bed, not bothering to take his boots off first.
“Don’t shake the bed.” I order him away before he sits next to her. His weight alone would make her thin body bounce.
He gives me a questioning, desperate look. I nod.
“That worthless doctor!” He starts to curse. I go to his side, trying to calm him down so he doesn’t wake Thjodhild.
“Leif, not only is there a child in this room, but you are a Christian now."
Leif looks over, noticing Snorri for the first time. “Oh…yes…so sorry."
“There is no cure for this disease,” I say. “But your medicine may have kept her alive so she could see us return.”
He yanks out a chair and slumps in it. “Perhaps, but who can tell? I’ve no wealth to spare now.”
I sit next to him, lowering my voice. “All the more reason to keep your ships from Freydis. She has had too much pain at Straumsfjord—you didn’t see her baby, Leif. And I am sure she hasn’t told you everything about her time there. It has dimmed her ability to make wise decisions.”
He looks at me, gray eyes clouded, his hair still wild. He wears his favorite brown leather tunic, the one his father gave him. Because he looks up like a guileless, injured child, all my instincts are to comfort him.
“Yes, we all see how my sister has changed. But my men say Finnbogi and Helgi are the best. And Ref wouldn’t let me down.” He stretches his legs, then leans toward me. The closeness of his long, tan fingers pulls at me. I try to forget how perfectly they wove into mine years ago.
“There is more going on here than you know.” I wonder how much I should reveal about Suka.
His gaze sharpens. “Tell me."
“Your sister is one of the bravest women I have ever met.” I compliment her, and thus his family. “But there was a man there, a Skraeling slave of yours, who took advantage of her weakness after her poor child’s birth.”
“Suka! That son of a…” Leif mutters, fighting to stay quiet. “Someone told me that coward stayed behind, keeping one of my best men with him. No doubt to protect his sorry hide!”
I won’t tell him how Suka tried to kill us. It’s pointless, and Leif might organize his own trip to Straumsfjord. “I do think Suka will leave her alone now, Leif. But it is unwise to let her go back. The babe’s grave is in that forest, and it would only serve to cloud her thinking even further. She is already stealing my mushrooms."
“What?!” He roars in my face. “Wherever did she get that idea?”
I push his knee, hoping to quiet him. His eyes widen.
“Well, your old berserker, Bjarni, surely didn’t help. Freydis admired that man like she did your father. You know she likes power.”
His eyes close and he begins to sob. Leif’s emotions are easy to understand, always in the open for all to see. I used to admire this about him. In contrast with Finn, though, I can see that the deepest feelings are in the quietest man.
He swipes at his eyes with his sleeve. “I’ve failed her. My father would know what to do.”
“Your father is part of her problem.” This stops his sobs. “He gave Freydis too much, and he didn’t listen to Thjodhild when she told him to stop spoiling her. Now it’s your turn to do what is right. Ref isn’t brave enough to stand up to her.”
“Yes, she can be a regular flaming devil, can’t she?” Leif is proud again, for all the wrong reasons. He takes my hand, sending an unwanted charge through me. Deirdre picks Snorri up and moves closer behind us. “Things are so changed. Why do things have to change? I can’t bear to lose my mother.”
Leif needs to wake from his stupor. Life is full of change and loss. “At least you’ll see her again in heaven,” I say.
He looks doubtful. “Perhaps.”
I push his hand off. “'Perhaps?' Don’t you dare talk like that, Leif Eiriksson. You’ve believed in God, just as your mother and I have. You must have heard more of the Holy Writings than us, given your time in the king’s court. And I believe Snorri Thorbrandsson is with the only true God even now.”
Leif stands, towering over me. I fully expect him to slap me, given the intense look in his eyes. Stena walks over to the bed, pretending to check on Thjodhild.
Instead, Leif gives me an appreciative clap on the shoulder. “You don’t know how much I needed you here. Gunna did nothing but speak against me, without reason. You only say what needs saying. I’ll talk with Freydis, but don’t hope for much. You know how stubborn she is.”
He nods at Deirdre and Stena, then stomps out. I hadn’t realized how much his presence filled the room, until it is empty of it.
“Tha
t man is like one of the white ice bears.” Deirdre walks up beside me and puts her hand on my arm. “And you are the only one I’ve ever seen tame him.”
Chapter Forty
Orange and red flames light the sky tonight, like streams from a volcano. The very sunset hints at the funeral fires, which are ready to be lit. I’ve decided that I can’t go. I’m not sure where I will go, but I can’t be at Brattahlid.
Because Snorri believed in Christ, I’ve helped Stena practice some words about God to say over him. There will be no chanting tonight. Finnbogi and Helgi have agreed to stay and sing Icelandic songs for the funeral.
Everything is prepared, even a small plot for the bones near Thjodhild’s church yard. Thorstein and Eirik were also buried there.
Deirdre has agreed to stay with my children tonight. I wonder if she knows of Snorri Thorbrandsson’s love for me, but she’s never spoken of it.
Finn will lead the ceremony, not only as Snorri’s best friend, but as his trading partner. All Snorri’s wealth will pass to him tonight, making Finn the wealthiest man in all Greenland, and perhaps Iceland as well.
I take my lamp, walking up the path where I last saw Snorri. The woods breathe his name, reminding me of walks with my wolf in Straumsfjord. All too clearly, I remember the recent feel of his lips, desperate for my own. I had to reject him. But perhaps I was too harsh?
I close my eyes, and I can almost see him walking toward me, tight leather pants, bald head, rusty beard. I can feel his rough, square hand on my own. I hear him say golden as he touches my hair.
When my feet ache from walking, I find an uprooted tree and sit. I don't light the lamp, even in the dim twilight. The leaves have all fallen in Greenland, leaving nothing but limbs. Deadly limbs.
Trees surround every desolate event in my life—my mother’s hanging, Freydis’ childbirth, the fight with Suka, the search for my dead wolf. And now, Snorri’s death.
I spent all my nights at Straumsfjord dreaming of Brattahlid and Leif. Yet I had to return to finally see things clearly. Leif was never meant to be my love, because he was never mine to enjoy. I always belonged to someone else, be it Thorir the Eastman, Thorstein the Red, or Thorfinn Karlsefni. And, for the short time I didn’t belong to someone else, Leif did. Even though he doesn’t love Gunna, they are married, and bound with vows. We aren’t pagans anymore, free to take whomever we please and spread our love around.
And Snorri Thorbrandsson, my protector since childhood, is dead. I have always thought of him that way, as my Snorri. My possessiveness probably hindered him from considering Linnea. Will I feel guilty for his death until my own? Finn laid all the blame on Snorri, saying he had been reckless and thoughtless for loving me. He even blamed him for choosing the wrong horse that day. But Finn didn’t realize how needy I was when he left me at Straumsfjord, and how easily Snorri comforted me, like family.
Flames and smoke hang in the sky above Brattahlid, but the air around me is unusually crisp and fresh. This will be a new beginning. I must move forward. There is no use looking back at my constant weaknesses with men. Perhaps they will still watch me and wait for their chance with me, but I can’t get close to them. Nor can I regret the days I spent at Straumsfjord, using all my energy to keep the camp healthy and protected, instead of playing with my child. Responsibilities fall heaviest on those willing to take the load. Snorri Thorbrandsson and I took it.
And here at Brattahlid, who will take the load? Who has the strength for it? Leif will probably lose his self-control quickly, with no wife and no wealth. Freydis plans to leave as soon as she can, to lose herself in another land. Thjodhild’s life is short; I’m certain of it. So that leaves only Stena and me.
A loud, united whoop fills the air near the farm. Snorri’s funeral is over. How long have I been here? I strike a flint stone against my seax to light the lamp wick. I don’t fear walking home at night. It fits my mood, to be swallowed up by the darkness of the trees. There are no stars, but the moon is low and almost full. It will be light enough for me to see the path.
Footsteps approach—a large man. I grip my seax closer, backing into the brush. Leif comes into view. He raises a lamp, lighting his hair and face like the sun. “Gudrid?” He searches blindly for my face.
I step into the circle of my lamplight. “Here, you loud brute. What are you doing, wandering around the woods tonight?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” He sits on the fallen tree, watching me expectantly until I sit next to him. “I understand why you couldn’t stay, after the shock…but it was an honorable Christian funeral. I wanted to apologize for that stallion. Granted, I still can’t figure why Snorri chose that fool animal. I was planning on selling it. Well, now it’s dead.”
“What happened to it?”
Leif looks at me strangely. “Don't you know? Your husband killed it. ‘Curse you, beast!’ is what he shouted, before running Snorri’s sword through it. I have to say, Thorfinn has more…well, he’s a fearsome man. I don’t see many like him.”
We sit in silence, listening to the night-birds. Peace seems to embrace us. The smell of smoke drifts toward us on the misty air, and moonlight filters through the tree limbs.
Words come to me from nowhere. “So many have died...so many who shouldn’t have. Your brothers. Freydis’ child. Snorri Thorbrandsson. Even your father. Eirik would have lived a fuller life than any of us.”
Leif sighs like a dying animal. “And now my mother lies on her death-bed. My son is gone from me. Who can say if I’ll ever see him again?”
Leif’s self-centered emotions weary me tonight. “You will—if you follow them to the Hebrides,” I say. “But you will not if you just sit here at Brattahlid, complaining about it.”
“You advise me well.” He slides closer, loosening chunks of bark from the dead tree. “I did talk to Freydis, like you wanted. I told her she couldn’t have my ships. But she says she’ll raise the funds and borrow someone else’s ship. Of course, no one in miles would loan her one, knowing I won’t. But she will do it, eventually—you know her.”
Too many things in Freydis’ life have been explained away with those words, But you know Freydis. Leif is right when he says there’s no way to stop her. And perhaps I am making a huge fuss over nothing. Maybe I wrongly suspect her, as I did with Vani's murder. If Freydis returns to the new world, she could search out her own treasure and grieve over her dead child.
We look at each other, both of us glowing in the lamplight. His smile turns into a mischievous smirk. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who wanted to keep you for myself. I found you with Snorri Thorbrandsson that day, your hand in his.”
I try not to give him the reaction he wants. “Snorri was like my brother. He has known me since I was a child in Iceland.”
“Well, he never looked at you as a brother would.” Leif continues prodding.
“No, and neither do you, Leif.” I fix him with a steady gaze, daring him to defend himself.
He laughs. “You know, I’ve never met a woman like you, soft and hard at the same time. You're a healer and children love you; yet your words hit me like icicles sometimes.”
“And so they should. Sometimes you need a good cooling off.” But even as I laugh, I see that he watches my lips far too closely. I have done it again—drawn attention to myself when I didn’t intend to.
His arm reaches out and I instantly pull away.
“What?” His voice is rough.
“Don’t try anything with me tonight, Leif, or you will regret it. You’ve drunk far too much of your father’s old wine today.”
"Then we'll talk...I have something to say.” He moves so close our legs touch. “I have loved you far too long. From the moment you left until the day you came back, I prayed for you. I dreamt of your hair and your face and your…it was like you were with me, on my bed. Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? Since I saw you on your father’s wrecked ship, with that huge oaf of an Eastman by your side.”
Not so long ago, I
felt the same. I dreamed of the day I could be alone with this massive Viking, enjoying his light beard, his wrinkled brow, and his sideways smile. At one point, just the sight of his chest would have knocked the breath out of me.
Yet now I only want the familiar arms of my husband. I want to trace his tattoo, symbol of the ocean and the death of Thor. I want to feel his blue eyes on me, growing dark with desire. He fathered this babe, and he loves my children as he loves me.
I blush, thinking of Finn's gentleness. But Leif misunderstands and reaches to stroke my flaming cheek. Snorri Thorbrandsson warned me against being alone with Leif. In these woods with no one to interrupt, he’s free to do something foolish. The sheer bulk of the man beside me heightens all my senses. I am like a twig next to him.
I stand, brushing off my skirts and trying to look calm. “I must get back. People will wonder where I am.”
With one easy move, he pulls me gently onto his lap. “You’re even lovelier when you’re expecting, did you know that? Does your husband ever tell you things like that, Gudrid? Has he mentioned your full hips and tiny waist can drive a man right out of his mind with lust? Or that your smile brings out the best in a man?”
“I'm seeing the worst right now.” I grope for my seax. “Let me go, Leif. Right now.”
He pins my arms with his own, leaning in toward my face. Suddenly, there is a knife between us, against his throat.
“My wife told you to let her go.” Finn’s deep, calm voice fills the air.
Leif shoves me forward. He leans back, grabbing his own knife.
“Go!” Finn shouts, and I run. I stumble along the path in the moonlight until I reach Brattahlid. In our empty house, I sink to the floor, exhausted. All night, I beg God for one thing: that He will let both men survive.
Chapter Forty-One
Morning finally comes, rays of light slanting into our upper window like any other day. Finn lies next to me on our bed. He isn’t harmed and there’s not a scratch on him. Finn, my true protector, who killed Vani by ripping his throat open.
God's Daughter (Vikings of the New World Saga) Page 24
