by Suzie Wilde
‘Hefnir’s always been jealous of Dellingr,’ Asa said. ‘Long before you.’ It wasn’t meant to be kind.
‘Well, now Hefnir’s shown his true self to me,’ Bera said. ‘What has a bad beginning will have a bad ending.’
Her scalp was warning of trouble. She needed to find Heggi – and Egill.
First she went over to Sigrid. ‘Set a watch over the livestock and take some stores from on board. They can have rations for the passage but get the rest off.’
‘Just let him try and stop me.’ Sigrid stamped off, then called back. ‘You did well there. Your mother would be proud of you.’
Bera raised a hand in thanks – but that burden was gone.
That’s the ticket.
‘You’re back, are you, now all the trouble’s over?’
Oh, dearest one, you know it’s far from over.
Her scalp was on fire.
‘It’s Heggi, isn’t it?’
Yes.
She would kill with her bare hands whatever harmed her boy. Because he was her own, more than the baby inside her.
Where was he?
The Raven was afloat in the shallows and the crew holding the lines. It was the last time she would ever see it. But that wasn’t causing this dread. Sigrid and the others were rolling some barrels towards the camp. The spare sail was gone and the moon was lighting the rocks where it had been.
Then, through a gap, Thorvald appeared. Alone! No – there was Heggi with Rakki behind. He lifted them down. The boy and his dog skipped off and Thorvald waved at her, to show they were all unharmed.
The dread remained. Think! Spare sail gone; crew with boat in shallows... Hefnir was putting out to sea at once. Where was he?
Heading at speed for Heggi.
Bera ran, though she could not reach Heggi before Hefnir grabbed him. But Thorvald could, if he knew what was happening behind his back.
‘Thorvald!’ she screamed and pointed. ‘He’s taking Heggi!’
He spun round.
Hefnir was advancing, his face grim. Thorvald lunged, swept Heggi up into his arms and ran. The dragging sand slowed everything. Both Thorvald and Bera moved as if through deep water but he had the boy’s weight. Her son’s mouth was a black O on his white face and silver light glinted off Hefnir’s sword as he raised it.
‘No!’ Bera screamed.
Hefnir gave his friend no warning. The blade came crashing down onto Thorvald’s shoulder, slicing into his neck. He pitched forward onto his knees, hurling Heggi towards her before he dropped. Bera seized her boy’s hand and they stumbled back towards the others who were coming to help. Dellingr got there first. She put Heggi’s hand in his. Asa and her daughter shielded Heggi from the sight of his protector lying on the sand; blood pooling round his head like pitch.
Hefnir was hers. Bera unsheathed her sword. She became aware of furious barking. Rakki would not let Hefnir pass. He ranged in front of him, snarling and snapping. But Hefnir didn’t try. He had no second to fight for him. He looked dazed, perhaps with grief, if he could feel that deeply. In time, he would create another lie to live by, as he had about his first wife and the Serpent, but for now he could not move. He stood, head bowed, with his sword point in the sand.
Bera called Rakki off. He ran to Heggi.
‘Hefnir.’ Her voice was cold steel.
He looked up and tears glistened in the moonlight. Bera felt no pity. He had too much for himself. But she would not make him pay the blood debt. Things must be different here. She had said they had to make good, right from the start, even if it was to sacrifice the last boat she would ever sail. Her father’s death had taught her that revenge was flawed. But she would speak the truth.
‘You go and you go now,’ she said, for him only. ‘Thorvald died protecting your son and you killed him while he was unarmed and his back turned. You are a coward. You lie. You married me despite believing your wife lives to suffer the abuse of raiders. So you should know that she cut her own throat for the dishonour you did nothing to stop. She won’t be waiting in Iraland, if you ever really thought she might. But you are in exile, Hefnir, and must never come back.’
He stood, undecided. ‘I want my son.’
‘And let you take him to the Serpent? I will never let Heggi learn from such an uncle. He is my son. I don’t have to love him but I choose to. That’s a stronger love than yours.’
Bera took up her stance; prepared to die to keep Heggi. The settlers closed in, strong at her back.
Perhaps Hefnir didn’t care enough. Or Thorvald was right and he lacked all courage. Either way, instead of fighting for his son, he started to haggle.
‘But it’s dark! I can’t set off in the dark.’
‘That gave you no trouble when you schemed to leave at once. This is your last warning, Hefnir, or I shall collect the blood debt. Go. And you had better hope there are no hidden rocks because there will be no one to help you.’
‘There is.’ A slight figure emerged from the shadows.
‘Egill?’
‘Can’t stay here, Bera. This place sent me mad and will again. My heart is in Iraland and Hefnir promised long ago to take me back.’ Egill had found her voice in more ways than one.
Bera was sad to see Egill as she might have been. ‘Then if you do belong in Iraland I hope you find peace. Beware of Hefnir. He cares for no one but himself. Keep your sword, Hefnir. Try to use it honourably and look after poor Egill, if you find the courage.’
Hefnir cleaned his sword in the sand, sheathed it and then slid away to the boat.
Egill wet her finger, drew a cross on Bera’s forehead and then touched her lips to say no more.
She ran to the waiting boat. Hefnir scooped her up and scrambled in as the crew pushed off into deeper water. He took the helm and the others manned the oars. Raven dipped to meet the incoming swell and Bera felt the boat-song deep in her bones. The song was loss. Her father’s craft had kept them safe through so much danger. Bera blessed the boat as it headed out to the sea path. There never would be another boat for her. No dip and dart or rolling swell.
The wind was blowing off the land. Bera watched until her patched sail was raised and then she could stand to watch no more.
Sigrid was kneeling by the body. She stroked his hair away from the gash and tenderly kissed Thorvald’s scarred face. This was what love looked like.
‘Sigrid. I am in true sorrow for your loss,’ Bera said. And she was. She raised her voice to pay the tribute she had never given him in life. ‘Thorvald was brave and strong to the last. I shall be forever grateful to our friend and protector. We shall burn him with all honours.’
There had been a rough kind of justice on the beach that night. Bera watched over Sigrid and Thorvald as she had done over mother and son in another life. Her skern settled at her back, approving and silent. All the long night she tried to understand the twists and turns of Fate and how she might use the emotions that could overwhelm her to make her even stronger.
The first promise of dawn appeared in the eastern sky. Bera went up to the high ridge to watch the landscape slowly take shape in the gathering light. She imagined it in the future, full of their crops and livestock. She was born to lead, in her own way, and would. But that was all in the future and she must get the present right.
A dog’s cold nose pushed into her hand and Bera smiled – for her boy would not be far behind and they would build this life together.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank all my supporters, some of whose names will not appear in the back of this book, and many of whom I met in Iceland: truly inspirational. Without Greg Mosse’s teaching and Richard Wilde’s support, it wouldn’t have been written. I researched the Vikings for over four years but two other books stand out that readers may enjoy: The Brendan Voyage by Tim Severin, who recreates the sixth-century Voyage of St Brendan from Ireland to America and Ocean Crossing Wayfarer: To Iceland and Norway in a 16ft Open Dinghy by Frank & Margaret Dye. The title says it all.<
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Supporters
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