Jorvik

by Jorvik- A thrilling tale of Viking Britain (retail) (epub)

  The reply was obtuse. Til’s mind was far away and his heart still pounded. ‘I am not a woman so I cannot know.’

  ‘Damn it, lad! I expect you to boost my confidence – it is Mildryth of whom I speak. If I hold my question for a few years until she is fifteen or so, doest think there is more chance of her accepting me?’

  ‘Accepting you as a father?’

  ‘You are looking for a tanned hide! Nay, I mean as a husband, man! Do not tell me you cannot see how I feel about her. I am sure it is evident to all.’

  Asketil could not speak for renewed shock.

  Sigurd misinterpreted the reason. ‘Oh, I know you think I am an old lecher – but I prize her virtue most highly. I would never use her in that way, but would honour her as my wife. Come, she is like your sister – she must have told you of her feelings. Does she speak kindly of me?’

  Asketil blushed to his hair-roots, unable to rid himself of the vision of the writhing snakes and the one between his legs that threatened to dance whenever he thought of her. Just when his heart had begun to calm, now it raced anew. He stammered a reply. ‘She never says ought like that to me, fostri. I am not given leave to her thoughts. You must ask another wench. Rest now, fostri, I will leave you and return later when I have done my chores.’ He beat a hasty departure.

  * * *

  He tried to avoid her but eventually Mildryth cornered him by the kitchen.

  ‘Why do you run from me?’ she entreated.

  ‘I do not run!’ He tried to brush past her but when his elbow made contact with her breast he shrank back. ‘Tis just with fostri laid a-bed I have much more to do.’

  ‘Liar!’ She closed on him. ‘’Tis because of what happened between us.’

  He pressed himself into the wall. ‘I am most sorry about that, it will not happen again.’

  ‘I want it to!’ How blind he is, thought Mildryth.

  ‘Nay! It cannot be.’ He tried to unclamp her fingers from his arm.

  ‘Why? I love thee!’

  ‘I enjoin you not to say it!’ The tempestuous nature of her lovemaking had scared him; even the touch of her hand was too much to bear. One by one he prised her digits off, one by one she pressed them back.

  ‘’Tis true.’

  ‘It cannot be so!’ He tried to deflect her attention by pointing at a gander which had broken into the vegetable patch. ‘Look! The steg is causing havoc!’ When this failed to work he whined like a cur. ‘Let me go, Mildryth, I beg you.’

  ‘Not until you say what keeps you from admitting your love for me – yea! You do love me, I know it.’

  Unable to deny it to her face and totally frustrated, he pushed her. She fell but as he made to stride over her she grabbed his calf and held on.

  ‘Mildryth!’ In his efforts to be free he dragged her with him.

  ‘Tell me!’ When he still tried to escape she bit his leg.

  ‘Aagh! Very well, it is because of fostri!’

  She removed her teeth but still clung on. ‘Because he hates all women, you mean?’

  ‘Because he loves you and wants you for his wife.’

  Stunned, she released his leg and turned her astonished face up to question.

  Now that all was revealed Asketil delayed his escape. When she was too amazed to utter a word he gave a snort and nodded. ‘Yea, I too was shocked. To the rest of the world he may regard you as a daughter but in truth he wants more than that. When you gain a few years he intends to ask you to wed him.’

  Mildryth began to laugh.

  ‘Cease!’ Asketil told her, but she was helpless to stop, falling on to her side and giggling uncontrollably. ‘Mildryth, have done!’

  She could barely reply for laughing. ‘Well, what else wouldst you expect when you tell me such a joke. The old tup!’

  ‘You will not mock him!’ Asketil hauled her to her feet. ‘He is besmitten with you.’

  Her laughter turned to defiance. ‘As besmitten as you are?’

  ‘Yea! Nay!’ He reddened and let her go. ‘I mean… Stop trying to trick me!’

  An impulsive Mildryth embraced him. ‘You can deny it all you please but I know.’

  ‘Even if it were true, it cannot be!’ Asketil tried to push her off. The merest proximity made him go hard and her mischievous smile told that she knew it. ‘Lord Sigurd wants you as his wife and…’

  ‘He will never have me! Think you I would choose to wed an old goat such as he when I have a handsome lad like you?’

  ‘You do not have me! Cannot have me. I will never betray him.’

  ‘But you have already.’ Her eyes reminded him of this afternoon’s lust.

  ‘I did not mean it! You must never tell. It will break his heart. He thinks you chaste.’

  She found his attitude incomprehensible. ‘Why did you not tell him of our love when he broached the subject?’

  ‘Mildryth, for the last time there can be no love between us! Much as I might want you – yea, you are right, it is useless to deny it, but I will not go against the man who has given me everything. Henceforth I shall revert to calling you sister.’

  The girl became quieter, but just as resolute. ‘There is no turning back, Til. You took my maidenhead and my heart. Lord Sigurd can yearn all he likes but they cannot be given again.’

  He stared, desperate to kiss her. When she made the decision for him he returned her embrace with zeal, but then the intensity of her passion made him afraid and he pulled away, his lips still tingling from her assault. ‘In Christ, I love thee dearly! But that must be the last time.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Til kept his vow. After wrenching himself from her that day he never swayed from his determination, however much she might provoke him – and provoke him she did in the most diabolical method; not a day went by without some trick or other. He dared not take his eyes off her for fear what she would do next.

  Mildryth took comfort in the fact that he was forever watching her - even today when he worked outside and she in here by the window. Oh, he pretended not to be but he was a bad actor. What could she frighten him with this afternoon? Her ingenuity and patience were beginning to run out. Why not just leave and be done with him, she asked herself. Because just as he could not take his eyes off her, she could not leave whilst there was a chance that he might change his mind.

  As she paused in her embroidery to gaze through the window, a leper slumped outside the church that Earl Siward had raised in the burh to St Olaf. For a moment she did not notice him, still thinking of new ways to infuriate Til. When her eyes did focus on the unfortunate man she felt a surge of pity and wandered outside to exchange a few kind words. Never once was there thought for her own health. Mildryth regarded herself as invincible – besides, her mother had given succour to many such wretches in the past and had not been infected. Mildryth reckoned it was safe enough if one did not actually touch the infected person and could not understand how others could be so uncharitable towards them. However, by the time she reached the man her intentions were not wholly honourable. A grin tweaked her lips at the image of Til’s reaction but she hid it as she bent and spoke to the leper.

  Only half-involved with his arrow-making, Til watched in revulsion at the contrast between the pretty face and the disfigured one, but the revulsion was soon overwhelmed by surprise as Mildryth urged the ragged fellow to his feet and guided him into the compound. It was time to intervene; he threw down his implements and blocked her path before she arrived. Undeterred, Mildryth bade the leper, ‘Wait a while, I shall fetch you drink,’ and calmly proceeded to milk a goat which had recently given birth. The colostrum had been meant to aid the bed-ridden Sigurd’s recovery, as Til excitedly pointed out.

  ‘What am I to tell fostri?’

  ‘Pooh! Tell him the goatsucker came in the night.’ Mildryth removed the wooden bowl from beneath the teat and was about to offer it to the leper when the mischief in her eye intensified. ‘Come where it is warmer, there is a breath of winter still left in the air.�
��

  ‘You cannot take him in there!’ but Til was forced to step aside as the leper threatened to brush against him. He gave a horrified look at his arm as though it were contaminated, then shadowed the pair inside.

  ‘Sit you down.’ Mildryth guided the leper to a bench by the hearth and sat by him. All other occupants gawped, then moved swiftly out of the house. Til gasped an oath, but was to be even further offended when Mildryth reached for Sigurd’s personal goblet and pretended to give it to the leper.

  She laughed and kicked up her legs with sheer glee at his cry of horror and instead left the leper’s refreshments in the wooden bowl. Til remained to guard Sigurd’s possessions against further outrage and when the miserable beggar eventually shuffled on his way some half an hour later with a bundle of victuals, he was furious with Mildryth. She seemed not in the least concerned, indeed she appeared to gloat at having distressed him to such a pitch.

  ‘How could you use that poor wretch in your schemes against me?’ His face was red from suppressed anger. It was all he could do to prevent himself shouting and waking the invalid.

  Scorn was added to Mildryth’s gleeful air. ‘I did not hear him complaining! In fact he was delighted with my hospitality.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you used him! And to fetch him into this house when fostri is already in his sickbed…’

  ‘Lord Sigurd will not catch it through the walls, fool! ’Twas only in jest that I gave him Sigurd’s cup, it never went anywhere near his lips. I did nought wrong but feed a poor leper whom no one else cares for.’

  ‘Lies! You do not care for him, you only brought him in here because you knew it would anger me. To be so cruel in your sport…’

  Mildryth’s amusement was growing thin. ‘If you care for him so deeply then why did you not offer succour?’ She gave a curt nod at his blushing response. ‘Do not lecture me, Til, for you are no saint yourself. Your anger is not for that man’s sake but your own. You want me, but instead of being a man you prefer to act the martyr.’

  Asketil dug his chin into his neck, nostrils flared. ‘You think it merely acting that I refuse to go against my father? Well, you can tease and wheedle and damn me as a martyr as much as you like, I will never betray my fostri’s trust!’

  And this continued to be his valiant reply whenever she played her tricks – which continued despite all objections. How could she purport to love him and make his life such a misery? Finally, he decided it was time to get his own back. Though not inherently devious he had a creative mind and a few moments was all it took to produce a trick that would stop her cruelty once and for all. It required meticulous arrangement to achieve its potential, but the very thought of it made Til chuckle to himself. Mildryth was greatly enamoured of the horse, Toki, that Sigurd had given her, but was irresponsible in her ownership. One evening when she left it tethered on the riverbank instead of fetching it into the yard, Til had his chance.

  The next morning Mildryth was roused to consciousness by the worried youth. ‘Did you leave Toki by the river last night?’

  She rubbed her eyes. ‘Oh… yes, I forgot…’

  ‘Then come with me!’ Til kept his voice low so as not to waken Sigurd. ‘There has been a terrible mishap.’ When the pair hurried outside Mildryth could see nothing, and Til pointed at the river. ‘There!’

  Mildryth, still half-asleep, could just make out a pair of horse’s ears sticking out of the water.

  Asketil tried to keep a straight face. ‘It was a high tide last night. The horse must have been unable to free himself from the tether. What a terrible thing to happen…’ He waited expectantly.

  But Mildryth did not react. There was no scream, no frantic running about as he had assumed. She did not even raise a hand to cover her mouth, just stared at the river, her protuberant eyes filling with tears that spilled over to run down her cheeks.

  Asketil felt dreadful. This was not the way he had imagined it at all! He chewed the inside of his cheek, watching her silent misery until he could bear it no longer. ‘I am sorry! It is not your horse. I was just taking revenge for the tricks you played on me! It was silly and cruel and I feel wretched – look!’ He left her and waded into the brown river until he was up to his chest.

  ‘Have care!’ came the nasal shout from Mildryth. ‘You cannot swim!’

  Asketil felt so mean that at this moment he did not care if he were swept away. However, he managed to keep his footing as he tugged at the ears – which were attached to poles in the mud – and waded back to her. ‘Look, it was a trick!’ Sopping, he brandished the ears before her. ‘Your horse is safe in the laithe where he has been all night. These belong to one who was butchered – it took me an age to find the right colour!’

  Angry now, she snatched the poles off him, threw them at the ground and stamped on them. ‘I will never forgive you for this! You know how much I love my Toki.’

  ‘And you know how much I love my fostri but it does not stop you playing your nasty tricks!’ Asketil felt justifiable anger now. Why should she make him feel so rotten when she had dealt many more cruelties to him? ‘You cannot take your own treatment!’

  Pondering on this, Mildryth swallowed, then accepted what he had said. But her next words came as a shock. ‘Very well. You have made it clear that you will not return my love. There is nought else for me to do but go back to my parents.’

  Asketil panicked. ‘You cannot! It will break fostri’s heart. Stay, I beg you.’

  Her response was sardonic. ‘For your sake or his?’

  Asketil hung his head. Unsure of the answer, he posed another question; ‘Will you forgive my trick, and promise not to inflict any more on me?’ She nodded, not wholly convincing. ‘Then I would like you to stay,’ he told her.

  Mildryth blew her nose and abandoned empty threats. ‘So be it, I will remain,’ she murmured, drawing a smile of relief. ‘But only in the hope that the old man shall soon be dead and then you will be free to love me.’

  Til’s voice was agonized. ‘Oh, never say that! He is my father, I love him.’

  ‘Love him or nay,’ replied Mildryth, ‘he will die like we all have to die and on that day you will come to me.’

  Unaware that Asketil shared his longing, Sigurd urged his belly to heal and allow him to begin his courtship as a man should. There came echoes of his wooing of Una all those years ago; the giving of gifts, the intense longing to hold her, the burning, the shuddering at her nearness… only one aspect differed: Una had known exactly what she was doing to him, but this child, this innocent, how could she know that just by lowering her lashes she caused untold torment? When he confided this to Asketil the youth blushed, partly from anger. Did fostri never consider that Mildryth could be attractive to another? Could he not see that Til was a man with appetites of his own? Apparently not. To Sigurd he was still a boy; it was infuriating.

  ‘Ah, I have embarrassed the lad with my intimate talk.’ Sigurd reached from the bed to place a fatherly hand on Asketil’s knee, then leaned back on his pillow, his face showing that the movement had caused discomfort. ‘I should not speak of your sister in this manner… ’tis just that I have no one else to whom I can open my heart, and I must share the feeling or I shall go mad. You have no inkling of what it is like to want a woman like this – though breathe not a word of it to Mildryth, I would not have her innocence sullied.’ The invalid’s face creased with a pain that was deeper than his wound. ‘But oh, I could scream my love out loud whenever she enters the room. Er, Til, fetch me yon piece of chestnut! I have been lying a-bed too long and my fingers are itching for work.’

  Asketil frowned at the incongruity of the request, but on turning saw Mildryth coming up the staircase. Ever the dutiful son, he brought the lump of wood and a knife to Sigurd then sat down again to watch Mildryth’s antics. Again he marvelled at the old man’s blindness. How could fostri believe her chaste? Just look at the brazen little puss making lewd actions whilst Sigurd’s eyes were on his whittling. Yet whenever fostri chanced t
o look up at her there she was, chastity personified.

  ‘You promised you would cease all your tricks and be decent!’ he scolded later on following her downstairs. ‘I have a mind to tell my lord that you are not all you appear to be.’

  ‘But you dare not, for you are afraid of him,’ she taunted.

  ‘Not afraid! ’Tis because I love him that I protect him.’

  Mildryth turned thoughtful, finger on chin, the most provocative sparkle in her eye. ‘I have been giving this matter much thought. Mayhap I will do as he wants and wed him. It might be amusing to hear you call me Lady Mildryth and bow to my every whim.’

  ‘I shall call you nought but strumpet! You tease him with your body and he cannot see it because he is too blind with love for you.’

  ‘Blind with lust, you mean! How can an old goat make to wed a young maid? ’Tis unnatural.’

  ‘You encourage him!’

  ‘It amuses me.’ Mildryth thrived on Til’s display – at least it showed he cared.

  ‘You should not treat him so when he loves you!’

  ‘You treat me cruel when I love thee,’ she retorted.

  ‘It is not the same!’

  ‘Why? You have admitted that you love me.’

  ‘Because… because even if I do love you, I have done everything I can to discourage you.’

  Her face held a pained kind of scorn. ‘And that is not cruel enough?’

  ‘Mildryth, you know that I have not a cruel bone in my body. Nay, do not bring up that business with the horse, you know it was only an attempt to make you see how I felt when you tormented me… and much good it did. I have told you a hundred times over why I cannot give in to your love. If you are hurt then I am hurt, too. Please, I beg you, do not make matters worse than they are already.’